


Young, and Restless, and Bored

by LasciviousPeach



Series: ain't it funny how the night moves [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Explicit Language, First Kiss, Human Disaster: Dean Winchester, M/M, Miscommunication, Oblivious!Castiel, Slow Burn, Sweet Fluff, The Beatles - Freeform, and some angst too, eventually mutual pinning, my best friend’s brother AU, no hunting au, pinning, slow dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2019-12-07 03:49:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 58,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18229499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LasciviousPeach/pseuds/LasciviousPeach
Summary: In which Castiel has been in love with Sam for years, but is afraid to tell him due to his own complete lack of experience. His saving grace? His best friend Sam’s older brother, Dean Winchester: beautiful, more than experienced, and all too willing to teach him.There’s no way this could go wrong, right?Completed!





	1. Wednesday, April 10th

**Author's Note:**

> just a little thing i thought of awhile ago. edited by me, so there are probably some typos- feel free to point them out. 
> 
> love it? hate it? let me know.
> 
> title taken from Bob Seger’s, “Night Moves”, naturally.

Castiel spends fifteen minutes on the Winchester’s front porch, hands wrung behind his back as he paces back and forth. He stops, facing the front door, and takes a deep breath. This is it. Today is the day he tells Sam Winchester how he feels.

He opens the door, not bother knocking - he hasn’t since the eight grade when Mrs. Winchester told him it was unnecessary - and walks into the living room. The television is on, tuned to some football game that Castiel couldn’t care less about. It’s the TV and the beer bottles that litter the coffee table that give him his first clues.

Ever since he first visited the Winchester house back during his seventh grade year, he had been in love with the place. There was something about the open windows, letting rays of sunlight fall into the room, that made it feel like a home. Compared to his own house, which was medically clean and dull, the Winchester’s house was like the perfect picture of domesticity. Framed pictures lined the walls, framed memories, and it makes him feel warm and comfortable. 

He hears movement in the kitchen and follows the sound. Castiel expects to find Mrs. Winchester’s smiling face greeting him from where she stands over the stove, or perhaps he’ll see Mr. Winchester rinsing out his coffee mug in the sink - and he’ll turn and greet Castiel with a firm nod. 

He sees neither of these things, though, and instead he sees the one Winchester he doesn’t like, sitting at the bar while he nurses a beer.

“I thought the purpose of you getting an apartment was that you weren’t going to live here anymore.” Castiel says as he steps further into the kitchen.

He hears Dean let out a loud scoff before throwing a glare over his shoulder, giving Castiel view of the bowl of cereal that sits in front of him. “Haha, fuck off.”

“Beer and cereal for lunch? You, sir, are the epitome of health.”

He doesn’t wait for Dean’s response, instead deciding to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and set up his laptop at the dinning room table.

“You’re such a bitch. Unlike present company, I actually used to live here.” Dean growls, “Why are you even here? Your boyfriend’s at the mall getting some bullshit for his chem project.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Castiel replies too quickly, and feels a flush heat his cheeks at Dean’s knowing look, “And I know he’s not. Sam said I could wait here until he gets back.”

“Whatever, I’m going upstairs.” Dean replies, voice uninterested, as he grabs another beer from the fridge before he turns and leaves Castiel in the kitchen, alone with his thoughts.

Ever since his last conversation with Gabriel, Cas has been feeling particularly inadequate. The image of Gabe’s surprised and amused face, after getting Cas to confess that he’s never kissed anyone, is permanently scarred onto the back of his eyelids.

He pulls open his laptop - which immediately connects to the Winchester’s wifi - and then opens Google. Cas hesitates for a second, reluctant, and then types into the search bar.

_ How to kiss? _

His question brings up several options. There are a few articles, even more videos, and even a step-by-step guide on wikiHow. He clicks one of the videos, and after spending a few minutes watching a girl kissing a guy, he exits out of it. Not really what he was looking for.

He clicks the search bar and tries something else.

_ How to kiss gay? _

This, thankfully, brings up several results that are more tuned towards what he’s looking for. Castiel scrolls down a few times until he finds a link titled, “How to make out with a guy, Ultimate Guide!”

He reads the entire thing, and once finished, he is feeling a little more confident. It’s not that he’s afraid of kissing, it’s that he’s afraid he’s going to be terrible at it. He’s afraid whoever he kisses (preferable the youngest Winchester) is going to notice, and then Cas will have to explain that he’s never been kissed before.

And that is one conversation he never wants to have.

All in all, it’s the thing Castiel is most self conscience about. Every time his older brother mentions it, his cheeks flame red and he wants nothing more than the Earth to split open and swallow him up. Or, you know, to just never leave his bed again out of shame. What eighteen-year-old man hasn’t had their first kiss? Sam had had his first kiss years earlier with Amy, and here Castiel is - eighteen years old and a virgin in every sense of the world.

He doesn’t know if Sam knows about his inexperience or not, but considering Cas has only told his two older siblings about it, he’ll assume that Sam doesn’t know. And Castiel is more than content to let Sam assume he’s done his fair share of kissing, even though Sam knows about his still intact virginity. The thing is, Castiel refuses to do anything that might jeopardise Sam’s feelings for him (that is, if he does have feelings for him), even if it’s something as stupid as him never having kissed someone.

He clicks the search bar and types in another question.

_ At what age does the average boy have his first kiss? _

Unsurprisingly, the results make him cringe. He finds that the average boy has his first kiss by thirteen and a half, and that 70% of the population has had their first kiss by the time they turn 15. He should have known better than to look it up in the first place because he knew what he saw was only going to upset him more. Castiel wants nothing more than to shut his laptop and run far away from the Winchester house and his inexperience, but there’s one more thing he needs to look for.

_ Is it bad that I’m 18 and never have been kissed? _

“So what’s wrong with you?” A voice asks from behind Castiel and he slams the laptop lid shut. He spins in his seat to see Dean standing behind him, an empty bottle of beer in his hand.

“What?” says Castiel, he’s breathless at having almost been caught. Not that what he was looking at was bad per se, just embarrassing and that would not be a conversation he wants to have with Dean Winchester.

“You’re eighteen and you’ve never kissed anyone. So, like, what’s wrong with you?” Dean repeats and Castiel flushes at the condescending tone of his voice.

He huffs, “There’s nothing wrong with me, asshat. The opportunity just hasn’t… arose yet.”

Dean lets out a chuckle at his words, “The  _ opportunity _ , okay. You mean the opportunity with Sam, right? God, I’d have to be blind to miss the way you stare at him. I can’t believe he hasn’t seen it.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Castiel says, “But yes, I’d like to kiss Sam.”

“But you haven’t.”

Castiel remains silent, worried that he’ll give too much away and that Dean will somehow put all the pieces together. It turns out he doesn’t need to speak for Dean to do just that.

“Because you’re scared. Because you’ve never kissed anyone.” He accurately guesses and Castiel flushes even more.

“None of this is any of your business.” Castiel repeats, his tone clipped, He’s almost too embarrassed to function at the moment, especially considering Dean Winchester is the one who found out he’s never been kissed. Dean - I’ve slept with everyone in Lawrence - Winchester. God knows he’s got countless women infatuated with him, and he strings them along like live bait.

Dean’s eyes narrow but then his face softens a fraction, “Can I give you some advice?”

Castiel supposes he’s not really in the position to be turning down advice. Especially since he was just consulting the internet for Christ’s sake. “I guess, but it doesn’t mean I’ll take it.”

“First kisses are bullshit. It’s best to just pick someone and get it over with. Hell, pick someone and have them teach you! That way once you finally confess your love to Samantha, he won’t run screaming because you’re slobbering in his mouth.”

Castiel considers this for a moment. It doesn’t sound like Dean’s purposely trying to fuck Cas over, and he’s older (22 to Cas’s 18) so he’s got four extra years under his belt. Not to mention he’s experienced the sexier side of life. Castiel might actually heed his advice.

“For the record,” Dean starts, “If I was-”

“Hey Cas!” Sam interrupts whatever Dean was going to say by joining them in the kitchen. “Hey Dean, mom didn’t say you were going to be home.”

“Yeah, Bella’s stopping by my apartment to get here stuff, so I figured I’d hang out here.” Dean explains, “I’m not really looking to get murdered by my ex.”

Sam nods before looking at Castiel, “Cas, want to help me with this project? You know how much I hate chemistry.” Sam asks, motioning to the supplies he sits on the countertop.

Castiel nods, “Yeah of course,” He turns back to Dean, “Uh, thanks for the advice.”

Dean smirks, “Anytime kid,” and then he’s standing up and heading back upstairs before Castiel can even object to the stupid nickname.

“Cas, let’s go! I’ll even do your history paper for you.”

It’s later that night, after they’ve accurately collected and labeled all of Sam’s proteins, that Castiel finally gets a second to reflect on Dean’s words. Maybe Dean’s right? Hell, Gabriel would probably agree with him. It’s not like his first kiss means anything to him, he just wants to get it out of the way so he can finally tell Sam how he feels without worry that his inexperience will chase him off.

But who can he just ask to kiss him without being weird? He runs through the list of people he associates with in his head and comes up empty. That is, until, Sam says something offhanded about his brother, and Castiel realizes the answer to his problem might be the person who pointed the problem out in the first place.

“I have to gay,” He says, “Go, I have to go to the bathroom.”

Sam gives him a puzzled look, “Okay, you know where it is.”

“Yeah, I just-” He motions towards the door, “I’ll be back.”

Sam’s confused expression doesn’t leave his face, but he gives Cas a nod. “Okay man.”

He leaves Sam’s room in a fumbling mess, and once in the hallway, he leans against Sam’s closed door and takes a deep breath. There’s no point in being scared, the worst Dean can do is say no.

He walks down the hallway in the direction of the upstairs ‘man cave’ as Dean had called it. The door is shut, and he stares at the chipped white paint while trying to catch his breath.

He stands there for at least five minutes trying to get the courage to knock.

Eventually, the thought of Sam is what convinces him. He raises his hand and knocks twice on the wooden door. The sound echoes through the hall and a couple of seconds later he hears Dean’s rough voice call out, “You don’t have to knock, you can just come in.”

Castiel pushes open the door. Dean’s watching some cartoon show, and once he sees Castiel hanging nervously by the doorjamb, he raises an eyebrow.

“Can I help you Cassie?”

“It’s Castiel,” He corrects him automatically, and then motions towards the room, “Can I come in?”

Dean’s eyes narrow, “I guess.”

Castiel enters further into the lounge area and turns to shut the door behind him. He walks over and drops down onto the couch a few feet from Dean. Who is, now that Castiel is actually paying attention to him, looking quite uncomfortable. “What can I do for you, Cas?”

Castiel pulls his bottom lip into his mouth and contemplates this for the twentieth time since he first considered the idea. Asking his crush’s brother to be his first kiss? Especially considering who his crush’s brother was. For all he knew, Dean could be completely straight. Or worse, the -  I’ll accept you from a distance - kind of homophobe. He didn’t think so, considering their previous conversation, but you can never be sure.

He closes his eyes and thinks of Sam. Then he thinks of Dean. Of his soft bow lips. Of his emerald green eyes. Of what people would say when Castiel said his first kiss was  _ Dean Winchester. _

“Iwantyoutokissme.” Castiel says, fast and all in one quick, succinct breath.

Dean’s eyebrows arch, “What?”

“I want you to teach me how to kiss. There aren’t any other guys I trust enough to ask, besides Sam, but we’ve had that conversation already. I know we’re not friends or anything, but you’re Sam’s brother and that means something. If he trusts you, I trust you, and I could really use your help.” Castiel explains, “If not, I understand. I know it’s a lot to ask.”

Dean’s expression is unreadable, and it’s starting to make him panic. “Cas, I don’t know-”

He throws his hands up in mock surrender, “You know what, forget I asked. I knew it was a longshot, but I was hoping after we talked earlier you might be able to help, but I totally get it and I would really appreciate it if you could forget-”

“Dude, I’m not saying no.”

His mouth goes dry, “You’re not?”

Dean shakes his head, eyes looking anywhere but at Cas. “No, I just don’t know if it’s a good idea. You’re in love with Sam, isn’t kissing his brother a conflict of interest or something?”

“I mean, yeah probably, but he doesn’t have to know.” Cas says, “If this is just you trying to politely turn me down, you can just tell me no.”

Dean licks is lips, considering, and crosses his arms over his chest. “A single kiss or you want me to teach you?”

Castiel hums, “A single kiss and then constructive criticism, maybe?”

This actually gets a snort out of Dean. “You make it sound so proper.” He muses, “Come here.”

Castiel scoots closer to him on the couch, and cannot bring himself to look away from Dean’s piercing green eyes. Those eyes that are running over the contours of his face, considering.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dean says and then, as if an afterthought says, “With me?”

He nods enthusiastically, “Yes. You’re the one who said first kisses don’t have to mean anything.”

Dean smiles, although it’s sharp in all the wrong places, and Cas wonders what he said wrong. He doesn’t get a chance to ask, though, because Dean is speaking again.

“Okay then. I guess just purse your lips a little.” Dean explains, and Castiel pushes his lips out like the classic “duck face” pose. It makes Dean chuckle, “A little less pursed. Relax them a bit.”

Castiel follows his instructions, “Like this?”

“Yeah,” Dean responds, “Now I’m going to press my lips against yours. Just a little pressure, okay?”

Castiel nods frantically. He closes his eyes, purses his lips like Dean said, and waits.

A second later, there’s a warm pressure against his lips. It’s not particularly noteworthy, but it’s not unpleasant. The kiss lasts maybe three seconds before Dean’s pulling away, and Castiel blinks open his eyes.

He just had his first kiss.

“Was that okay?” He asks, desperate for some reassurance that he hadn’t completely fucked up the most simple of kisses.

“Yeah, that was good. Now I’m going to do the same thing again, but you can open your mouth a little more this time.” He pauses, “Just follow my lead, alright?” Dean explains and Castiel nods, closing his eyes once more.

A second later, the pressure is back and Castiel parts his lips like Dean had told him. He follows Dean’s moves, incorporating his own from movies he’s watched, and parts his lips a little further, letting his mouth move softly against Sam’s brother’s.

This kiss lasts a little longer, but then Dean pulls away, eyes flashing to Castiel’s lips before they dart back to his eyes.

“Very good, Cas.” Dean says, his voice huskier than before. “Now we can work in a little tongue, if that’s okay?”

Castiel re-situates himself on the couch so he’s further facing Dean, “Very.”

This gets a grin out of the other man. “So same thing as before but I’m now going to run my tongue on your lip and then you can meet me halfway with yours.”

“What?” Castiel asks, confused.

“Sorry I’ve never explained kissing before, just kind of run your tongue against mine. Do what feels natural.” Dean offers and Castiel nods again.

He lets his eyes fall closed again and then Dean’s lips are pressing against his. They kiss like they did the last time for a few seconds, and then Dean’s tongue is gently tracing the seam between Castiel’s lips. A gasp escapes Castiel’s mouth, and he flushes with embarrassment.

Dean pulls a fraction of an inch away, and Castiel can’t help but look at the shiny reflection on his bottom lip, “Don’t worry about it. That’s good, that means you’re enjoying it. Make whatever sounds you need to and don’t be afraid to touch me. Just do what feels good, alright? I promise I’ll stop you if I need to.”

Castiel, breathless, nods and closes his eyes even tighter.

Dean’s lips return to Castiel’s, already soft and a little moist. His tongue traces the seam again and Castiel parts his lips even further. A second later, Dean’s tongue dips farther into his mouth and brushes against Castiel’s own. It pulls a soft moan from his mouth. He responds, letting his tongue stroke Dean’s as his hands curl into fists, and then he remembers what Dean said. He reaches out, gently pressing his palm against Dean’s cheek, pulling him closer.

It’s like Castiel touching him broke a seal of some sort, because then Dean’s hands are touching Castiel and he feels like he’s burning alive. One hand goes to the back of his neck, angling his head back an inch - and this new angle is incredible - and the other one fits softly against Castiel’s hip, pulling his entire body closer to Dean.

The older man breaks the kiss for a second and Cas chases Dean’s mouth. A second later, those beautiful lips are back on Castiel’s, and sucking Cas’s bottom lip in between his own. The pressure is intense enough to pull a long-winded groan from Castiel’s mouth. He responds by letting his free hand touch Dean’s chest, right by his heart. The muscles are unsurprisingly firm beneath his own, and it makes him wonder what they feel like under the tee shirt. All he wants is to be closer, to be able to feel more.

Dean seems to be having a relatively similar train of thought because he’s pushing Castiel back on the couch and then crawling on top of him.

The kiss breaks for a few seconds and Castiel physically cannot help the sound the falls from his lips. All he wants at this point is for Dean to fucking touch him. He’s already filling out quite quickly between the legs, and all he can imagine is how good Dean is with his mouth elsewhere.

He reaches out, fingers tracing the hem of Dean’s shirt. Then he glances back up to the man on top of him. Dean’s stretched out deliciously, long limbs on full display.

Dean’s pupils are blown, and there’s just a hint of a smile on his face. “Good?”

Castiel nods enthusiastically because he doesn’t think he can make his vocal cords work at the moment.

Dean’s smile curves even further, his eyes crinkling just a little, and then he lowers himself over Castiel even further and brings their lips back together. Cas reaches out, runs his fingers up the length of Dean’s spine over his shirt, and let’s out content sigh.

He’s dying here, burning up like a nuclear bomb on the Winchester’s couch. And with that thought, comes the reminder that Sam’s in his bedroom, not two doors down, waiting for Cas to come back from the bathroom.

He breaks the kiss with a panicked noise, sliding away from Dean - who takes the hint and pulls himself off of Cas.

“You okay?” Dean asks, and for once his words are dripping in sincerity.

He nods, “Yeah, I just- Sam’s waiting for me to get back.”

“Right.”

“But, uh, thank you. Really, that was,” He takes in a deep breath, “That was educational.”

Dean’s smile is easy, although it doesn’t reach his eyes, “Sure thing, man. Uh, good luck with Sam and everything.”

He stands from the couch and runs his hands over his hair in an attempt to look a little more put together. He gives Dean another nod before all but fleeing the room.

When he gets back in Sam’s room, he’s scared his actions are written all over his face, but Sam only gives him that same easy smile that Dean had.

“Dude, what took so long?”

“Sorry,” Cas says, “Your mom was talking to me about college.”

Sam seems unconvinced, but nods regardless, “Okay. I finished your essay. Wanna help me with my math?”

He returns the smile, calm and composed (although he feels nothing of the sort), “Sure, God knows you couldn’t finish it yourself.”

Sam’s laugh is beautiful, as always, and usually it would make him blush and squirm to hear it directed his way, but now all he can think about is Dean.

He thinks, for a second, that maybe he should go ahead and tell Sam what he came here intent on telling him. Maybe, now that he’s been kissed, he should lay it all on the line. 

But, for some reason, he doesn’t. 


	2. Thursday, April 11th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promised to get this up weeks ago, but Uni has me very busy. Forgive me. 
> 
> Love it? Hate it? Indifferent? I want to know!

He doesn’t think about it.

Well, he actually thinks about it too much. But, after being in love with his best friend for the past four years, lying to himself is almost second nature by now.

So Castiel tells himself he doesn’t think about it. He doesn’t think about how soft Dean’s lips were, or how their bodies felt pressed together, and he doesn’t think about the way Dean had looked at him after, with blown pupils and flushed cheeks.

Or, at least, he says he doesn’t.

Being the mature adult he is, Castiel manages to make it two weeks before running into Dean again. He had been careful, only going to Sam’s house on days that he thought Dean worked, and avoiding the diner on Main like the plague.

It’s not like the doesn’t want to see Dean either, because he does, he wants to see him more than he can even explain, but his life is already an array of unrequited love and hurt feelings so the last thing he needs is Dean Winchester letting him down gently. Especially considering he only has feelings for Sam. Cas doesn’t know what it is about guys that make them think a kiss or some flirting means you’re ready to tie the knot. He technically isn’t sure that’s what Dean thinks, but Cas would really rather not take the chance.

Besides, he has enough on his plate now anyway. He’s been doing some thinking, trying to figure out exactly where his head is in regard to the Sam issue.

He thinks that maybe the night he kissed Dean was a fluke. That maybe he was so caught up in having his first kiss, that he forgot how strong his feelings for Sam were. Because, even now, Castiel can admit that he still has a heart on for the youngest Winchester.

His alarm begins blaring next to his bed, and Castiel lets out a long sigh as he stares at the ceiling. He’s been awake for the past thirty minutes, just laying in his bed waiting for seven o’clock to roll around.

Castiel shuffles out of his too big bed and hits the off button on his alarm clock with just a little too much force.

He stares at himself, unamused, in the floor-length mirror attached to his wall. Usually, he looks forward to school. Or, at least looks forward to seeing Sam, but today he’s just not feeling it.

Castiel shrugs on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and makes his way downstairs.

“I literally told you that was too much flour.” He can hear Anna’s yelling before he even reaches the landing. Castiel sucks in a deep breath and lets out a more than audible sigh. He rounds the corner, and barely resists the urge to facepalm, like he’s the protagonist in some cheesy 80s romcom.

He walks into the kitchen, to find Gabriel standing in front of the stove wearing a bright green spandex suit and an apron that says, “Let’s Get Baked”. Anna is next to him, also wearing a full body green spandex suit. She’s leaned over, dumping an ungodly amount of food coloring into whatever Gabe is mixing.  

He sits down at the table next to their father, who’s reading the newspaper and acting like all of this is completely normal.

“Good morning, Castiel.” Chuck says over the top of the newspaper, like his two oldest children aren’t baking at seven in the morning, wearing something from an episode of It’s Always Sunny.

“Morning dad.”

“Cas, you have to try this.” Anna says, shoving a spoonful of some green mixture in his face.

He flinches away from the concoction, that honestly looks like snot, and shakes his head. “After coffee maybe.”

She shrugs, a strand of long red hair falling down beside her ear, and turns back to gesture towards the bowl that Gabriel is holding.

“Anything fun planned for today?” His dad asks, sliding him a cup of coffee.

Castiel accepts it, taking a long sip and shrugging. “Not really. I think I’m supposed to go to Sam’s later.”

He doesn’t miss his dad’s knowing eyebrow as he says, “Sam’s, huh?”

“Dad, you know it’s not like that.”

“Sure, sure.” His dad replies, eyes not drifting from the newspaper, “You just seem to be spending a lot of time with Sam recently.”

“It’s because he’s in love with him.” Gabriel mentions, unhelpfully, from the stove.

“Dad already knows that, genius.” Anna retorts.

Castiel sighs, again, and takes another sip from his cup. There’s no point in denying it, his dad and siblings can read him far too good for that.

His dad sits the newspaper down, grabbing his coffee mug and standing with a stretch. “Either way. Just be safe and call me if you’re not planning on coming home later.”

He punctuates it by dropping a kiss onto the top of Castiel’s hair.

“You know most parents wouldn’t let their kids stay out on a Thursday night, right?”

Chuck just shrugs, “We all know I’m not most parents.” and then he’s excusing himself to his office, leaving Castiel in the kitchen with his insane siblings.

He sighs and picks up the newspaper.

The school day drags by terribly slow, and it’s not until Castiel is putting his books in his locker at the end of the day, that Sam materializes out of nowhere next to him.

“Alright, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Castiel pulls out his syllabus for Biology and shoots a look Sam’s way, “I don’t care. I just need to get out of my house.”

Sam leans against the lockers, long arms stretched up over Castiel’s locker, unintentionally putting his perfect body on full display, “I’m thinking takeout and the new Avengers movie?”

He shuts his locker, letting a smile curve on his lips, “That sounds incredible. I have to run home and drop off my stuff, but then I’ll be over?”

Sam claps his hands together, smile wider than Cas’, “Sounds good.”

The house is empty when he gets home, three separate notes littering the front of the fridge.

_ Working late tonight - Dad _

_ I honestly don’t have an excuse as to why I won’t be home, but nobody reads these anyway. - G _

_ Fuck you Gabriel, I invented this for a reason. (Also won’t be home either, staying at Jacie’s!) Love you! -Anna _

He grabs a yellow sticky note from the counter and jots down his own note, the letters too crowded and messy to be legible, but his family is not doubt used to reading his writing, so he slaps it on the fridge before heading up to his bedroom.

_ Going to Sam’s for dinner and a movie. Will be back later - Cas _

He debates changing clothes, but decides against it at the last minute. It’s one thing to be crushing on your best friend, but changing clothes and prepping before you hang out with said best friend is a little much.

He throws his backpack on the bed and heads back downstairs to get into his car. The ride to Sam’s house only takes around ten minutes, so he rolls the windows down - lets the cool spring air flood through the car - and turns the music up to 25.

When he rounds the corner to pull onto the Winchester’s street, the easy smile slips off his face. There, sitting in the Winchester’s short paved driveway, is Baby. The windows are down, and the sun shines like fresh gloss off the smooth black paint, and Castiel wants nothing more than to turn around and go home to sulk.

But Sam’s there, and they have plans. Plans that, if it were anyone else, would resemble a date.

Instead of pressing the gas and peeling by, like he so desperately wants to do, Castiel presses the brake and eases his car into the spot right next to the Impala.

He shuts the car off, opts to leave the windows down, and grudgingly drags himself out of the seat. The walk to the Winchester’s front door goes by too fast, and sooner than he’s ready, he’s standing right outside staring at the pristine white paint of the door.

He can hear movement inside and pushes the door open without knocking. Cas is instantly met with Sam and Dean’s voices, from the sound of it they’re in the kitchen, and after shutting the door behind him, walks in that direction.

“I don’t know what’s been up with you recently, but it’s starting to freak me out.” He hears Sam say, no doubt talking to Dean.

He’s proven correct when the eldest Winchester snorts, “Shut the hell up, man. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I get that you’d die before you’d ever talk about it, but I know something’s up with you. You’ve been acting weird. You barely ever come over here anymore, you spend all your time in Bobby’s garage. It’s like you’re ignoring me or something. I know something happened, and I’m going to figure it out.”

He hears Dean hum before the fridge door opens, “Sure you will. Except that there’s nothing to find out. I’ve been at Bobby’s because I have a job, and I’m an adult, you know? Shit to do, people to see.”

“If everything was fine, you wouldn’t be drinking whiskey at three on a Thursday.”

Dean’s quiet for a moment, and Castiel is about to take that as his cue to enter, but then the older man speaks again. His voice is lower than before, not quite a whisper, but not his usual volume either, “Dude, seriously just let it go. I’ll get over it, and everything’ll be fine.”

“So you admit that something’s wrong.”

“Sam, seriously let it go.”

It’s quiet again, and Castiel pushes the door to the kitchen open before they can begin to speak again.

Dean’s eyes snap to him, face blank, and Sam smiles widely.

“Hey man, I was wondering when you were going to get here.” Sam says, as he checks his watch, “Shit, I should have had you pick up the takeout.”

He takes a seat next to Sam and steals a sip of his soda. “It’s cool, I can go pick it up.”

“It’s cool, I’ll go. Dean’s making me fill the Impala up anyways. Do you care waiting here for a bit?”

He doesn’t look at Dean when he response, “Yeah that’s fine. I’ll probably just finish up that assignment from last week.”

“Okay cool, Dean be nice.” and then he’s grabbing his keys and excusing himself from the room.

Castiel takes another long sip from Sam’s glass, keeping his eyes focused on the table and not looking in Dean’s direction. He hears the door slam and a moment later the chair that Sam had vacated gets pulled out and Dean drops into it.

“So I take it you didn’t tell him.”

Castiel swallows the soda in his mouth and shrugs.

“Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs again, “I honestly don’t know.”

“But you’ve had your first kiss. I thought that was all that was stopping you.”

“I thought it was too.” Castiel says, “But I just couldn’t tell him.”

He finally looks up at Dean, who’s looking back contemplatively, “Is it because you feel guilty?”

“No, I don’t even feel guilty. I just, I wanted to tell him, but then I panicked. I think that, maybe, I’m still not entirely comfortable with the whole kissing thing.” says Castiel.

Dean nods, his thoughtful expression deepening in the crinkle of his forehead, “I guess that makes sense.” He pushes his stool back from the counter and swings his feet onto the floor. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have anything to be worried about, uh, skill wise.”

He turns, like he’s about to head back into the living room, and before he can stop himself, Castiel opens up and says, “Wait-”

Dean stops, his back turned away from Castiel and frozen. He looks back over his shoulder, eyes dark and the beginnings of that ridiculous smirk on his face. “Yeah, Cas?”

And he really shouldn’t. He should say ‘nevermind’ and let Dean walk away. He should stop himself before he goes and tangles everything up even worse than it already is.

But he’s weak. And he’s young. And he’s restless and bored.

“Would you help me again?”

Dean’s smirk comes back, full fledged, and Castiel can’t drag his gaze away.

“Let’s go to the living room?”

He follows after Dean without hesitation. His legs feel tired as he watches Dean drop onto the far end of the couch. He follows suit, sitting down a few feet away from him.

“Same as last time?” Dean asks, his voice deep and rough, and so damn nice.

Castiel nods, his throat too dry to get the words out, and when Dean smiles again, it’s softer around the edges. Less intimidating. 

“Just relax.”

He rolls his shoulders and turns to face Dean more fully. The older man reaches out with his hand, letting it cup Castiel’s jaw. He can feel the warmth of Dean’s long fingers seep into his jaw and cheek, and it feels too good. Dean tilts his head, considering, and then he leans in.

Like the last time they kissed, it starts off soft. Just the first brush of lips, but it has Cas’s fingers clenching into fists because he knows it’s only uphill from here.

Dean breaks the kiss, pulls back just an inch, and Castiel can’t look away from his green eyes. “Relax, I promise it’ll be good.”

He nods enthusiastically, Dean’s fingers curling tighter around his jaw, and Castiel leans into the touch. A pause and then Dean’s lips are back on his and Cas pushes back into him. He opens his mouth, just like Dean had taught him last time, and lets his lips slide against the older man’s.

Dean tastes like whiskey, sharp and bitter, and Castiel thinks the taste from Dean’s lips is enough to get him drunk. He pushes Dean further into the back of the couch, and a moment later he swings a leg over Dean’s lap to straddle him.

Just like last time, as soon as he breaks the touch barrier, Dean becomes an even more active participant. His hands curve down Castiel’s back, gentle pressure against the knobs of his spine and settle around his waist. Not moving or directing, just squeezing gently, like Dean’s trying to hang on.

He drags his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip, and when Dean moans - honest to God moans - Castiel thinks that he might die.

He lets his tongue brush against Dean’s, a soft, teasing caress that leaves him needing so much more. One of Dean’s hangs drops below his waist, flitting along the backside of his pocket, and Castiel reaches behind his back to press Dean’s hand further against his ass.

Cas assumes permission was what he was waiting for, because then Dean’s other hand circles around to press against Castiel’s ass too, dragging his body even closer to Dean’s.

Castiel’s own hands are wrapped around Dean’s neck, his fingers tangling in the hair that sits at the nape of his neck. He can feel the warmth of Dean’s neck bleed into his forearms and he can feel the steady thump of Dean’s pulse against his wrist.

The sound of his own heart beating because almost embarrassing, and he’s sure that it must be loud enough that Dean can hear it. He focuses on the sound, listens as it becomes louder and louder, until he breaks apart from Dean’s mouth for fear of his heart actually exploding.

And that’s when he realizes, it’s not his heart. It’s the Impala.

“Shit,” Castiel says, ungraciously climbing from Dean’s lap to put as much space between them as possible.

Dean must realize that Sam’s home at the same time that Cas does, because he stands from the couch almost exactly as Castiel flings himself off him, and flashes him a quick smile that doesn’t seem genuine as he adjusts his pants.

“You should tell him.”

Castiel nods, his heart still beating far too fast to be safe and swallows down the taste of Dean that lingers on his lips. “Yeah,” He breathes.

The door opens a moment later, just as Dean has disappeared upstairs.

“Dude, start the movie, I’m starving.”

Castiel nods, taking a few more seconds to stare into space, trying to get his legs to work properly again.

“Cas, you good?”

He looks up at Sam, giving him the best smile he can manage. “Of course,” He breathes, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He sees the confusion in Sam’s face, the way the other man’s eyes seem to linger on his undoubtedly tousled hair before they flicker to the stairs. Then, thankfully, Sam only shrugs and gestures to the TV. “Dude, start the movie. I’ll get some plates.”

Once Sam’s left the room, he allows himself to take a deep breath and runs his fingers through his hair. After a moment, he stands and puts in the new movie.

Sam returns once the opening credits are playing and hands Castiel a plate full of lo mein and general Tso’s chicken. The food is amazing, as per usual, but his throat doesn’t seem to be working properly and the food sits like lead in his stomach.

Halfway through the movie, he hears footsteps on the stairs and purposely keeps his eyes on the television.

“What are you watching?”

“Infinity War,” Sam says and then follows it up with, “Dude shut up.”

Castiel sees Dean roll his eyes and disappear into the kitchen. The fridge opens and a minute later he drops down onto the couch next to Sam.

“Why aren’t you watching something good?”

“Dude, shut up.” says Sam, again.

“I’m just saying, who cares about this when you could be watching Tombstone or something?”

He hears the gigantic sigh Sam lets out and then a second later the movie pauses.

“I gotta pee. No watching ahead.” Sam tells them, although Cas assumes it’s more directed at him than Dean.

Once Sam disappears down the hallway, Dean turns a knowing eye his way.

“Man, why haven’t you told him?”

“I will.” Castiel says, “I just don’t want to yet.”

Dean’s eyes narrow. “I think you should tell him.”

“Yeah Dean, so you’ve said. But it’s my secret and I’m not telling him anything until I’m ready. And if you’re a good brother, and a good friend, you would respect my decision.”

He sees Dean open his mouth, no doubt intent on saying something annoying or scathing, but the bathroom door opens before he gets the chance, and his mouth closes with an audible click.

Cas winces in sympathy for his teeth, but says nothing.

“Dude I hate Thanos,” says Sam as he returns, dropping down onto the couch, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Dean disappears back upstairs near the end of the movie, and Castiel is left alone with his thoughts.

Dean’s right. Even if he’s being ridiculously pushy and annoying, he’s right. Castiel should tell Sam. Tell him and get it out of the way. And tonight’s the perfect night, really. After a nice night spent hanging out, and they don’t have a single class together tomorrow, so if things go South Sam will have the whole weekend to think and Cas to mope.

Once the credits begin to roll, he’s made up his mind.

Sam pauses the movie, the end credits frozen on the TV, and turns to Castiel. “Damn, that was rough.”

“I have to tell you something.” He blurts out, like the idiot he is.

Sam’s expression grows concerned. “Is everything okay?”

Castiel nods, his movements more confident than he feels. “Yeah, I just, I, uh, I just need to talk to you about something.”

Sam’s face softens, the wrinkles next to his eyes growing more prominent. He reaches out, a large hand coming to rest on Castiel’s forearm. “Cas, you know you can talk to me about anything. We’re best friends, man. You can trust me.”

Best friends.

Right.

They’re best friends. Have been for years.

Best friends.

Friends.

Just friends.

“I just wanted to say thank you for always having my back and for being such a good friend to me.” Castiel lies easily.

Sam’s expression grows somehow more confused. “Of course. You’re like family to me, I’m always going to be there for you.”

Like family.

That is, somehow, worse than being friend zoned.

“Are you sure that’s all you wanted to talk about?” Sam asks, his voice knowing, but what he knows Castiel has no idea.

“That’s it.”

“Okay,” says Sam, “Just know I’m always here for you. No matter what.”

Castiel smiles, although he’s not really sure if it’s believable or not. He’s guessing from Sam’s expression that he didn’t quite reach it.

“I know.” He says, and when Sam returns his smile, it doesn’t reach his eyes either.


	3. Friday, April 12th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did someone say character development?
> 
> This chapter ran away from me. Thank you, as always, for your beautiful & thoughtful comments. They keep me motivated and reassure me that my words are not complete garbage.

When Castiel wakes up the next morning, ten minutes before his alarm is set to go off, the first thing he notices is the vibration of his phone. He reaches over, still half asleep, and grabs it off the bedside table. Unsurprisingly, it’s Sam.

Sam (7:49AM): Hey!! Are you still coming to my game tonight??

Damn it. The text message is a reminder of the conversation he had had with Sam a few days ago between classes. Sam had asked if he had plans, and Castiel - who only ever really seems to have plans with Sam - had said no. Which is how he got roped into promising to attend his soccer game on Friday. In all honesty, Castiel doesn’t want to go. There’s nothing about sitting in the cold, uncomfortable bleachers by himself that screams good time. But this is Sam, and he’s never been anything less than supportive, and Castiel owes him. He hesitates for a moment, staring at the screen of their text messages, and as he waits another message appears. 

Sam (7:50AM): Dean’s going. He said he can give you a ride so you don’t have to go by yourself

He really should have figured that Sam knew him better than that. 

And Dean? While going to the game with Sam’s older brother is a little weird, and Castiel can’t imagine that he’s going to enjoy himself in the slightest, he figures that - at the very least - he doesn’t have to go by himself. 

To Sam (7:51AM): Of course I’m going. Tell Dean to pick me up at 5.

The three little dots pop up to show that Sam’s typing, and then a new message appears.

Sam (7:51AM): Dude, tell him yourself.

Sam (7:51AM): **1-866-907-3235**

Castiel frowns at the message, his heart rate accelerating the smallest fraction. He forces himself to take a breath and talks himself off the ledge. It makes sense that Sam would give him Dean’s number. If Dean’s picking him up, it’s kind of vital they have some form of communication. Right? That makes sense. There’s no way that Sam knows about the kiss, or well, kisses. Castiel sure as hell didn’t him, and he sincerely doubts Dean would either. It doesn’t seem like the type of bombshell Dean would drop on Sam over dinner, let alone at all. 

He saves the phone number to his contacts, and types out a new message. 

To Dean Winchester (7:52AM): Hey it’s Castiel. Can you pick me up for Sam’s game at 5?

Cas locks his phone and drags his ass out of bed. He flips off his alarm and stretches, popping the bones in his back. He changes into his normal school day outfit, jeans and a too worn tee shirt that Gabriel had brought back from when he had run away to Paris. 

He heads downstairs, despite the fact that it’s still early. He figures the sooner he gets downstairs, the sooner he can deal with whatever insane shenanigans Gabriel and Anna have, no doubt, already cooked up.

Castiel takes the steps two at a time, hand balancing him on the railing. As he rounds the corner into the kitchen, he’s greeted by a sight that - while new - is not at all unexpected. Gabriel is laying upside down, blindfolded, on the table as Anna, who sits in the far corner of the room, tries and fails to throw grapes in his mouth.

He takes his usual seat next to his father at the kitchen table. As he sits down, Chuck looks up from over his newspaper. “Good morning, Castiel.”

Just another morning in the Novak household.

“Morning dad.”

His father passes him a cup of freshly brewed coffee and Castiel accepts it gratefully.

“What’s on the agenda for you all today?” Chuck asks, as he folds the newspaper and slides it in Castiel’s direction. It’s kind of their normal morning routine.

Castiel smooths out the front page and skims the headlines as he listens for Gabriel and Anna’s replies.

“I checked my package tracker, and my confetti cannon is supposed to come in today. I’m probably going to Michael’s to set it up.” Gabriel says, and Chuck nods like that’s the most normal thing his son could be doing on his Friday afternoon. (And considering his son is Gabe, it probably is.)

Anna shrugs, popping a grape into her mouth, “I’m not sure yet. I think Charlie and I are supposed to hit up the mall later.”

Chuck nods again, “Well just let me know if you need money. I know you’ve been eyeing those Burberry shoes.” He says, and then his gaze turns to Castiel, “And what about you?”

“I’m going to Sam’s soccer game.”

“I thought you hated going to his games.” Anna interjects.

He swallows another sip of coffee and shrugs, “I don’t hate going to his games, I just hate going alone. So Dean’s going to pick me up.”

Anna lets out a low whistle, “Dean Winchester,” She says, her voice far away and dreamy, “Now that’s the Winchester you outta be gunning for. Talk about hot.”

He sees Gabriel nod thoughtfully, although the meaning is kind of lost considering he’s upside down and blindfolded.

“Not my type.” Castiel replies offhandedly.

“Oh right,” She says, voice drenched in enough sarcasm that Castiel can easily pick it up, “Forgot you were into nerds.”

“Anna,” Chuck warns, and she rolls her eyes, throwing another grape that hits Gabe in the forehead.

“It’s cool, dad.” Castiel says, “And Sam is a nerd, self proclaimed and all,” He directs to Anna, “But he’s so much more than that. He’s smart and sweet and kind of perfect.”

Gabriel snorts, “Geez Cas, you forgot oblivious. How does he not know about the boner you’ve got going for him?”

“Shut up Gabriel,” Cas spits, “Besides, I’m a nerd too. So it’s like fate or something.”

Chucks stands from his chair, face thoughtful, as he fills his coffee mug. “It may be true that you have a lot in common, and if he makes you happy then you know I’ll always support you. But keep an open mind. You know the saying opposites attract exists for a reason.” He says with a wink, “Have a good day, kids. There’s money on my desk if you need it.”

“Bye dad,” He says, watching as Chuck leaves the kitchen. He hears his father’s footsteps on the stairs and hums. His father does make a good argument, but at a certain point having things in common trumps lust or chemistry. And, besides, Sam and him are a textbook match.

Anna throws another grape, and this time, it hits Gabe in the eye.

“Shit,” Anna says, and Castiel turns his attention back to the newspaper.

Castiel doesn’t have a single class with Sam on Fridays, so he doesn’t get to see him until lunch. He makes his way through the lunch line, adding a house salad and a bag of Cheetos to his tray. As he’s nearing the register, his phone vibrates. He waits until after he pays, which takes a good ten minutes since Mrs. White still hasn’t mastered the art of making change, and checks his phone when he gets to the condiment table.

Dean Winchester (12:24PM): Sure thing man

Castiel sends back a thumbs up emoji, adds a ranch dressing to his plate, and slips out the back door to the outside picnic table he shares with Meg, Balthazar, and Sam.

The sun is bright outside, the temperature hovering just above 65 degrees, and Castiel takes a deep breath of the fresh air. He’s grateful for the thirty minutes a day he gets to spend outside, even if it technically, isn’t allowed.

Their lunch spot is a secluded table hidden behind the Ag departments latest foray into landscape design. The trees effectively hide them from prying eyes, and Castiel can smell the cigarette smoke before he even makes it around the shrubbery.

Meg’s the only one sitting at the table, legs propped on the seat next to her as she browses through her phone. Every few seconds, she takes a long drag of the cigarette that’s splayed between her fingers, and then blows the smoke out to be caught by the breeze.

As soon as his tray hits the table she pushes a pack of Newport’s in his direction.

“You know smoking on school grounds is technically illegal,” He says as he takes one, regardless. She flashes him a knowing smile and leans over the table to light it for him.

Castiel takes a long drag, the taste familiar on his tongue, and blows it out.

“First of all, we’re hidden. Secondly, if we were caught, who exactly is going to say shit to us?” Meg says after a moment and he returns her smile.

“Point taken,” He says, as he stirs the dressing into his salad.

Meg takes the opportunity to fill him in on the daily gossip, as per usual, and Castiel chokes out a laugh around the filter of his cigarette as she explains what happened with Sarah Blake.

“So, yeah, after he said that, Sarah dumped her coke all over his bag.”

Balthazar drops down next to Meg, essentially materializing out of nothing, “You talking about Sarah and Max?”

“Who else? Did you see the look on his face? Priceless.”

Castiel tosses his cigarette on the ground and stubs it out with the toe of his shoe. “Honestly though, if he said that, then I think he deserved whatever she threw his way.”

“Oh yeah, I completely agree. Doesn’t make it any less funny though.”

Sam rounds through the trees and Castiel sends him a wave. A second later Sam drops down into the seat next to Cas and steals a Cheeto from his plate.

“Dude did you ever text Dean?”

Castiel swallows his bite of salad and nods, “Yeah, he’s picking me up at 5.”

“Okay cool,” Sam says with a grin before turning his attention to Balthazar and Meg, “Sucks you two can’t go. Tonight is going to be one hell of a game.”

“Please, the only reason we have a shot is because you’re on the team. We sucked before you joined.” says Balthazar and Castiel nods, pointing his fork in Sam’s direction in agreement.

Meg stubs her cigarette out on the table and hums, “That’s true. What were we? Like the opposite of undefeated. Winchester really whooped their asses in shape.”

Sam buries his blushing face in his own salad and Castiel nudges him with his shoulder. “Go Lions.”

Sam’s returning grin is infectious.

By the time the end of the day rolls around and Castiel makes it back to his house, he’s more than ready for the game. He’s been cooped up inside all day, with the exception of their too short lunch, and he’s excited to finally be outside enjoying the weather. Sure, spending the night with Dean isn’t anywhere near his bucket list, but Castiel figures he can make the best out of it.

He quickly shucks off his shirt and changes into one of the red and black Chesty lion jerseys Sam had given him when he joined the soccer team at the beginning of the year. It’s a little big, the fabric scratchy and cheap, but it’s got Winchester 02 written in red on his back in red lettering, so Castiel really can’t find a reason to complain. As pathetic as it sounds, he likes wearing Sam’s last name on his back. It makes him think about how things will be in ten years, and Castiel clings to the idea that, maybe, his last name will be Winchester by then too.

He looks at himself in the floor-length mirror on the back of his door and smiles. Rolling his eyes at his own absurdity, he makes his way back downstairs to leave a note on the fridge.

There are already two notes written in Anna’s pristine handwriting and Gabe’s bird scratch. He smiles as he reads them, glad that - for once - his siblings have decided to take their insanity elsewhere for the night.

_ Confetti cannon came in!! I have named him Richard (Dick for short) and I am taking him to the Walmart parking lot with Michael for a little experiment. Also, I’m going to a party tonight, so I won’t be home, but dad please make my hangover special in the morning!!! I <3 you!!! - G _

_ Gabe, you slut!!! You said you weren’t going out anymore!!!!!! HAHAHAHA should have known. I’m going out too, so if you’re going to Ruby’s, I’ll see you there. - Anna :) _

_ PS Dad, please make Gabe’s hangover special tomorrow. Ruby got 2 kegs, so I’ll need it. Say yeah to underage drinking!! _

He jots down his own - much more concise - plans on a yellow sticky note and sticks it next to Anna’s.

_ Soccer game with Sam and Dean. Be back later - Cas _

His phone vibrates as he’s sticking it on the fridge.

Dean Winchester (4:59PM): I’m here

He slips his phone in his pocket and heads out the front door.

Baby is idling in his driveway, the sun reflecting bright and shiny off her black paint. He can hear the music, some pre-1979 classic rock music with a lot of guitar that he doesn’t recognize, coming through the open windows. Castiel walks to the passenger side, pulls the door open and listens for the telltale squeak. He drops down into the passenger seat and watches as Dean leans forward to turn the music down only slightly.

He turns towards Cas and offers him a close-lipped smile. “Hey,”

“Hi,” Castiel responds, “Thanks for picking me up.”

Dean puts Baby in reverse and slowly begins to pull out of the driveway. He’s looking in the rearview mirror when he replies, “It’s no problem, man. I really wouldn’t have wanted to go if I was alone anyway.”

Castiel returns Dean’s smile and watches as he turns the steering wheel with his left hand, putting Baby into drive with his right once they reach the road.

The sight of Dean, relaxed and open in the front seat of the Impala, makes Castiel recall Anna’s words from this morning. He knows Dean is attractive, knows the girls from high school still fawn over him on the daily, but he’s different like this. He looks younger and less cynical, the crinkles next to his green eyes soft but prominent, his bow-shaped lips curved into a smirk. And even given Dean’s sometimes obnoxious personality, Castiel truly doesn’t think he’s all bad. Sure, he puts up a facade of an uncaring bad boy who doesn’t give a damn what anyone thinks, but Cas knows how much deeper it is than that. He knows about how Dean is with Sam. How he grew up with a sole mission of protecting him, keeping him safe from the real world big bads. He thinks that that is a true testament of Dean’s character. Not the way he acts when people are looking, but the way he loves Sam wholeheartedly and without doubt.

“I got something on my face?” Dean says, and Castiel is pulled from his inner monologue.

“Sorry what?”

“You’re staring. Do I got shit on my face or something?”

He shakes his head, immediately diverting his eyes. “No sorry, just zoned out.”

“Uh huh,” Dean says, but Castiel can hear in his voice that he is unconvinced.

He looks back at Dean, intent on clearing it up, but finds the older man grinning at him. He’s speechless for a second, stunned by how handsome Dean actually is when he isn’t keeping up that annoying mask of indifference.

“I thought you only listened to music with the volume loud?”

Dean gives him a challenging stare and turns the volume up to ten. “Better, sweetheart?” He asks, voice teasing and no doubt trying to goad Castiel into turning it down.

It is loud, almost annoyingly so, but the sun’s out and the windows are down, and Cas can’t find it in his heart to complain. “Much.”

He sees Dean smile and turns his own matching grin towards the window. The music floods through the car, and he relaxes into the leather seat and listens to Dean play drums on the steering wheel.

When they pull into the stadium at Lawrence High, there is already a surprising amount of people there. He shouldn’t be surprised, really. Ever since Sam joined the team, and they actually started winning games, the school had found its pride again. He follows Dean inside the gate once they park, and they stop just outside to pay.

“Two please,” Dean says, eyes already looking to the field in search of Sam.

“10 bucks.” The girl taking tickets says, and before Dean can reach for his wallet, Cas slides her a ten-dollar bill.

Dean turns to him, eyebrow raised, and Castiel shrugs. “Consider it gas money. Now let’s find a seat before they all fill up.”

He smiles at the ticket girl and shoulders past Dean further inside the gate. Cas walks for a second, before stopping and turning to look behind him. He smiles when he sees Dean browsing through the paper roster a few steps behind him.

Castiel walks down the metal bleacher stairs, finding an empty spot on the fifth row from the bottom near the aisle. He turns to look at Dean, who’s following close behind and gestures to the particular area of the bleachers, “This good?”

“Wherever you want.”

Castiel sits down on the bleachers and Dean drops next to him. They’re close, not touching, but he can feel the brush of Dean’s arm against his every time the other man moves. He squints, his hand coming up to shelter his eyes as he peers out at the field.

“He’s right there,” Dean says, pointing with his right hand to the corner of the field. Castiel follows the line of his finger and wonders how he didn’t see him sooner. Compared to the rest of the players, Sam looks enormous. He also looks really hot.

His black shorts are tight and fall just above his knees. His jersey is tight too, showing off his imbecile form and leaving nothing to the imagination. He has knee high red socks that house his shin guards that, on anyone else would look ridiculous, somehow manages to make Sam look even better. He catches Sam looking at the bleachers and tosses a wave in his direction. Sam must see them, because his frown morphs into a full face childlike grin, and he waves - with both arms over his head - at the two of them.

Castiel hears Dean snort and watches as he blows Sam a kiss.

“Can I see that?” He asks, motioning to the paper roster that Dean’s been folding into neat squares. Dean hands it over without question and Castiel unfolds it and begins flipping through the ads until he finds the list of names he was looking for. He finds Sam’s name easily.

#2           Senior     Sam Winchester          6’0’’

He snorts at the listed height because, unsurprisingly, everyone else falls well below that line.

“Hey man, I’ma go get some food. You want anything?” Dean says, and Castiel drags his eyes away from the paper.

“Uh, can you just get me a coke?”

Dean raises an eyebrow, “Anything else?”

His stomach growls lowly, but he doesn’t want to trouble Dean. “No, just the coke.”

He looks unconvinced but nods. “Okay,”

Castiel reaches for his wallet, but Dean walks away before he can pull it out.

As soon as Dean walks away, the girl in front of him leans back and shoots him a sly smile, “Dude, is that Dean Winchester?” She asks, eyes trained somewhere over his shoulder. She looks familiar, and Cas thinks they might have had Algebra together freshman year.

“Uh, yeah, that’s him.”

She whistles, eyes still not looking at Cas,“Damn, how did he get even hotter since high school?”

“Uh,”

“You guys dating?”

Castiel flushes, “No. We’re just here to watch Sam.”

“Hm,” The girls says, “That, my friend, is what I call a shame.”

He gives her a smile that, no doubt, screams his discomfort. She smiles back, before turning around and returning her gaze to the field. Castiel, confused, can only stare at the back of her head in dismay. What part about the five words he exchanged with Dean screams dating? He supposes however that most people see what they want to, rose-tinted glasses and all, so he shakes her words off without another thought.

Cas has effectively pushed it from his mind when Dean returns a few minutes later, dropping down into the seat next to Castiel again. He hands over a coke and Castiel accepts it with a smile.

“Thanks,”

A second later, a yellow package of peanut m&m’s are being pushed into his hands. He looks up, questionably, but finds the eldest Winchester’s eyes focused on the field. He persists, staring at him with a raised eyebrow. Finally, Dean’s eyes flicker to his and he shrugs. “I knew you liked them.”

He tears open the package, oddly touched by Dean’s thoughtfulness, and smiles. “At least let me pay you back.”

Cas makes to reach for his wallet, but Dean’s hand cover his own before he can. “Don’t even think about it.”

He huffs a disbelieving sigh and catches the eye of the girl that sits in front of them. She gives him a knowing look at Castiel flushes.

“Fine, but I’ll pay you back eventually.”

Dean tears open his Reese’s package and smirks, “Sure thing, Cas.”

A whistle calls his attention to the field. Castiel watches Sam and the captain of the other team walk to the center of the field where they meet the referee. The referee shakes hands with the two of them and they exchange brief words. He squints and watches Sam nod, and then the ref flips a coin. The three of them peer over it and Sam says something else, and the ref holds his hand out in the direction of Sam’s team as he whistles again.

People in the bleachers start cheering, whooping loudly and Castiel has no idea what happened.

He repeats as much to Dean, who snorts next to him. “We’re screwed then, because I don’t know shit about soccer either.”

Castiel laughs, watches as Dean smiles softly at the sound. He bumps his shoulder against Dean’s lightly, “I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah Cas,” Dean says softly, “I’m sure we will.”

He turns his eyes back to the field and lets himself get lost in the game. He doesn’t understand the more detailed aspects of it, but for the most part he understands the basics. He watches, eyes rapt, trying to remember every moment. He watches as Sam dribbles the ball down the field, legs moving far too gracefully for someone of his height, the way he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration, the way he smiles and cheers with his team every time Lawrence gets a goal.

Halfway through the first half, an older man motions to the spot on the bleachers next to him and asks, “Excuse me, is this spot taken?”

“No, go ahead.” Castiel replies and scoots to the right to give him more room. Which, in turn, brings his thigh directly in contact with Dean’s.

He can feel the rough denim of Dean’s jeans against his own. The touch startles him at first, and he’s about to apologize and scoot back over, but Dean doesn’t seem bothered and, in fact, Cas doesn’t think he even noticed. He decides not to scoot back and leaves his thigh pressed against Dean’s. It’s nice, comforting even, and every time he remembers it during the rest of the game, Castiel can’t help the smile that spreads across his face.

When the game ends, with Lawrence high winning by 2, Castiel follows Dean down to the field to congratulate Sam.

Sam is by his team’s bench talking animatedly with his friends, and when he spots Cas and Dean, he jogs in their direction. Instead of walking through the fence gate that’s five feet away, he hops the small fence with an undeniable amount of ease.

“Great game!” Cas says, letting Sam pull him into a hug. It’s nice, being pressed up against Sam (even if he is disgustingly sweaty and gross) and he allows himself to relax into his friend’s arms.

“Yeah man, good game.” Dean says, and Castiel pulls away to watch Dean pat him on the shoulder. He knows there’s never much physical affection between the two, but Cas can read the pride in the motion.

“Thanks guys,” Sam says, his face split with a wide smile, “I was a little concerned there at the beginning of the half, but we managed to turn it around.”

“You killed it,” Castiel says and Sam’s smile somehow gets wider.

“Thank you,” Sam says, and he looks over his shoulder at his team, “There’s a celebration at Martin’s but I can skip if you guys would rather I hang out with you.

“No, it’s cool. You should go and hang out with them. You deserve it. Besides, I’m sure we’ll hang out tomorrow.” says Castiel, and Dean nods next to him in agreement.

“Yeah man, we’ll catch up later.”

Sam pats them both on the shoulders and grins again, “Okay. Thanks for coming guys.”

And then he’s turning to jog back to his friends on the field. Castiel looks after him, watches the way that he runs so gracefully and manages to look so damn hot as he does it.

Castiel turns to Dean, who’s looking at Sam with a half smile on his face and his hands shoved in his pockets. The sun is just hovering along the horizon, casting the sky in deepening hues of orange and blues. The light shines on Dean’s eyes, making them look somehow greener than they normally do. Castiel’s struck by the fact that he’s not quite ready for tonight to end yet. Cas, surprisingly, had a really good time with Dean. He had been nice and thoughtful, and Castiel thinks he’d like to prolong tonight a little longer.

He tilts his head, smile a little more hesitant, when he says, “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, and nothing sounds better than a burger from the diner.”

Dean’s answering smile is the definition of breathtaking. And, here, he thought Dean couldn’t get any better looking. “You, Cas, read my mind.”

When they get back to the Impala, Dean gives him a thoughtful look. He reaches into the back and pulls with him a small box filled to the brim with cassette tapes. “I don’t usually do this, but why don’t you pick a track?”

Knowing how picky Dean is with his music, Castiel is - once again - touched by the gesture. He remembers specifically Sam’s rant about Dean’s ‘driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their cakehole’ moment. Castiel flips through a couple of cassettes before finding one with familiar art on the front. He recognizes it from his father’s collection of vinyl. He takes it from the packaging and sticks it into the tape deck. The opening notes of Custard Pie fill the car and Dean shakes his head.

“Physical graffiti? That’s it, I’m officially stealing you from Sam.”

Castiel grins, turning the volume up to an indecent level, and laughs as Dean peels out of the parking lot. They get a lot of stares from affronted parents, but Castiel just smiles and waves.

It’s dark by the time they get to the diner and Castiel grabs a booth by the window as Dean says hello to one of his dad’s friends at the bar. He looks up from the menu and finds Dean standing in front of the jukebox. Cas watches him pick a track, and when the opening chords of Patsy Cline’s “She’s Got You” softly fill the diner, his breath gets sucked from his lungs. He hadn’t expected him to pick a song so melancholy. He smiles as Dean drops down into the seat across from him, decidedly not commenting on the song selection.

Instead, he closes his menu and sighs. “I don’t even know why I look at this damn thing, I always end up ordering the same thing every time.”

When he looks up from the front of the menu, he finds Dean’s eyes on him. Castiel raises an eyebrow, the beginnings of a smirk on his face, “Do I have something on my face?” He parrots Dean’s words from earlier.

The older man shakes his head, smile easy and light, “No, I’m just thinking.”

“Pray tell."

“Just tryna figure out why you haven’t told Sam yet.”

And he should have known things were going too well to last.

He shifts in his seat, not looking at Dean, “It’s complicated.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I’d like to know why you want me to tell him so bad.”

Dean contemplates that for a moment, “I want Sam to be happy. All I’ve ever wanted is for him to be happy and if there’s a chance you can make him happy, then that’s all I’d ever want for both of you.”

And that… that’s probably the best, most Dean, answer he could ever imagine.

“I’m scared to mess things up between us. Right now, we’re so good, so solid. He’s comfortable around me, doesn’t flinch away when I touch him, trusts me just as much as I trust him. I’m worried that if I tell him, it’ll mess all that up.”

“You have to know Sam isn’t like that. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, he’d never abandon you.”

Castiel nods, “I know he wouldn’t. He’s too good for that. But it’d be different. He’d know, and I’d know that he knows, and things are just too good to ruin right now.” He says, words true and vulnerable, “You have to understand that, right?”

Dean’s eyes are knowing and bright, and when he answers with, “Yeah, I get that,” Castiel wonders if Dean’s felt the burden of unrequited love too. Seeing the way Dean’s eyes are soft, he assumes he has.

Dean shakes his head, frown replaced by a smirk and says, “Come on, let’s order. That candy did nothing for my appetite.”

Dinner goes just as well as the rest of the night, and Castiel finds that he’s actually enjoying himself. Dean is crass and obnoxious in all the right ways, and Cas laughs so hard he almost spits soda out of his nose and his sides ache with laughter.

When the waitress brings their bill, he sits down his cash before Dean can reach for his wallet.

“Dude,” Dean says and Castiel rolls his eyes.

“Just let me pay,” He says, “You can get the bill next time.”

He freezes as soon as he realizes what he said. Next time has a lot of meaning behind it and holds the assumption that they’ll be out to dinner - just the two of them - again sometime.

He opens his mouth, to say something, but then Dean’s smirk widens and he can’t get the words out.

“Okay,” Dean says, “I’ll hold you to that.”

And oh. Okay.

Castiel finds that he actually wants to get dinner with Dean again, just the two of them. Despite every reason to the contrary, he had a really good time with Dean. They had laughed and chatted about nothing in particular, and it’s probably been one of the best nights he’s had in a while. Nights with Sam included.

When he’s with Sam, he’s tense. He’s worried that he’ll say something or do something that will expose the way he truly feels. He’s worried that one wrong move and Sam will see right through the carefully crafted mask he wears. But with Dean, things are different. He already knows about how Cas feels about Sam. There’s no precedence, no way he should or shouldn’t act. With Sam, it’s all about the show, but with Dean, he can just be.

“Come on,” Dean says, “Let’s get you home. I’m sure your dad’s wondering where you are.”

Doubtful, he thinks, but follows Dean from the diner, anyway.

The drive to his house is quiet, the only sound is the wind rushing past the window and the crooning voice of Robert Plant through the speakers, but it’s more comfortable than anything else. When Dean pulls up alongside the curb outside his house, Castiel turns to face him.

Dean’s facing him too, posture relaxed and open, and Cas can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Thank you for tonight.” He says, “I had a good time.” and he means it.

Dean rubs the back of his neck and shrugs, “Sure thing man, glad I wasn’t forced to go to the game alone.”

He wants to say something but can’t find the words. He needs to say something else, needs to extend their time together by some fraction. Needs to tell Dean whatever the stirring feeling in his chest is. He doesn’t know what to say, though, and when Dean tilts his head, questionably, Castiel does the only thing he can think of and leans forward to bring their lips together.

Dean’s frozen against him and for a second he panics that he made the wrong move, but then Dean sucks in a breath and presses back into the kiss.

It only lasts a second, and it’s much more chaste than all their other kisses, but when Castiel pulls away, he’s breathless.

He’s still close to Dean, too close, and his eyes flicker to Dean’s plush lips without his permission.

“Don’t forget, I owe you dinner.” Dean whispers.

Castiel licks his lips and smiles, “Yeah,” He says as he pulls farther away. “I won’t.”

Dean’s eyes are on him, still soft even in the low light.

“Goodnight Dean.”

The older Winchester smiles, bow lips curved up in a way that makes him look younger than he really is, “Goodnight Cas.”

He climbs out of the car on limbs that are shakier than they have any right to be and refuses to look back until he gets to the house.

He doesn’t hear the purr of the Impala pull away until he shuts the front door behind him.

Castiel shakes the stupid smile off his face and heads upstairs. His father’s office light is still on, so he knocks twice on the door.

“Come in,” Chucks voice says, deep and exhaustion ridden.

He cracks the door open and sticks his head inside. “Hey dad. Just wanted to let you know I’m home.”

Chuck looks up from his laptop and rubs his eyes, “Okay. Did you have a good time?”

He doesn’t hesitate before answering, “The best.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Chuck responds, “Get some sleep.”

“I will you. You too though.”

Chuck smiles, shutting the lid of his laptop and nodding. “I’m heading to bed now. Goodnight Castiel, I love you.”

“Love you too, dad.”

And then he pulls the door shut behind him.

When he falls into bed 10 minutes later, face washed and teeth brushed, he can’t help but think about Dean. He feels foolish for kissing him, but it had felt so right at the time. And, besides, Dean didn’t seem bothered at all.

Against his better judgement, Castiel unlocks his phone and types a quick message.

To Dean Winchester (11:39PM): Did Baby make it home in one piece?

It’s quite obvious he’s not talking about Baby, but subtly isn’t really his forte. He watches the message send, and a second after it says delivered, it shows that Dean’s read it. Three little dots appear in the corner and then a new message comes through.

Dean Winchester (11:40PM): She did. Curled up and snoozing in the parking lot of my apartment right now. She thanks you for your concern.

Castiel smiles.

To Dean Winchester (11:40PM): Glad to hear it. Goodnight Dean

Castiel goes into his contacts and updates Dean’s name. As soon as he saves it, another message comes through.

Dean:)  (11:40PM): Night Cas. Sleep well

He locks his phone, sits it on the bedside table, and pulls his comforter over his head.


	4. Saturday, April 13th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love it? hate it? Let me know in the comments. They keep me motivated and I love reading them more than you'll ever know. 
> 
> This chapter is a bit dialogue heavy, so bear with me.
> 
> Also! Guess who has less than two weeks left of Uni? That is until next Fall :)))

Saturday morning comes along, like most things, with no concern for anyone. Castiel hates that the weekend is flying by so quickly, but at the same time he is grateful. The sooner they finish next week, the sooner he gets to graduation. It’s so close, just beyond the length of his outstretched fingers, that Castiel can almost taste it.

Cas actually doesn’t end up spending Saturday with Sam. His father guilt trips him into story planning his newest book, so Castiel spends the majority of the day in the living room jotting down notes and helping him create the beginnings of a working plot.

By the time Anna and Gabriel roll out of bed around four PM to eat the hangover breakfast their father had crafted, Castiel’s on edge. After spending so much time inside, doing nothing but talking and writing, he feels antsy with the need to do something.

It only gets worse when they make fort in the living room, talking so loudly that Castiel can’t focus on the book that’s in his hands.

After the third time that Anna squeals with excitement, he’s had enough.

Castiel shuts his book (a copy of Wuthering Heights), more annoyed than usual, and sits it down on the couch cushion next to him. He leaves the room, grateful they don’t bother asking where he’s going, and heads upstairs. Once safely in the confines of his room, Castiel pushes open the window farthest East and swings his leg over the edge. He maneuvers out until he’s standing on the roof and shuts the window behind him. A few steps to the right, there’s a makeshift latter that he climbs, one railing at a time, until he can swing his body into the small alcove where the roof meets with a different section of the house. He sits in the small space, pulling up a worn shingle to reveal his stash of cigarettes. They aren’t hidden from his father, but from Anna.

He remembers when Meg had first found this place, intent on finding a hiding place so they could smoke weed, despite the fact that Castiel assured her his dad really wouldn’t mind.

That’s the thing about his dad, he’s the most lenient parent that Castiel has ever met. He cares about his children, loves them completely, but takes a backseat approach to parenting. He had explained his philosophy once, when he had caught fifteen-year-old Cas sneaking in a bottle of peppermint schnapps.

_ “You are going to do what you want,” Chuck had said, “I remember how I was as a kid. The more my parents told me not to do something, the more I wanted to do it. I would much rather know and support your decisions than for you to do them behind my back. This way, I know you’re being safe, and you know that if you ever work yourself into a problem, you can trust me to help you out of it. As long as you’re making choices knowing that there are consequences to every action you take, I will stand behind you and support you as best I can.” _

He knows he got lucky with his dad. Most parents would shit themselves if they had Gabriel and Anna as children, and although Castiel is much more adult than his oldest siblings combined, he still has his fair share of vices that normal parents would not approve of.

Case in point, he thinks, as he takes a cigarette from the pack, leaning forward to retrieve the lighter from his back pocket. He lights it, the flame glowing in the darkening sky, and inhales a deep breath. Castiel doesn’t want to be here anymore. He wants to be out doing something, living and making memories he can think about as he grows older.

Castiel unlocks his phone and types out a message to Sam.

To Sam (10:23PM): What are you doing??

He sends the message and lays back to take another hit of his cigarette. When half the cigarette has been smoked and ashed away, and Sam still hasn’t responded, Castiel bites his lip and contemplates who else he can text. Balthazar and Meg are still out of town, and he hasn’t spoken to Anael since she transferred schools.

God, he needs more friends.

He scrolls through his contacts, finding nothing of use until he reaches the D’s.

Dean’s name sits there, the smiley face staring at him. He had a good time with Dean last night, so it shouldn’t be weird if he messaged him again, right? But still, this was Sam’s brother. There has to be some bro-code line he doesn’t know about, in reference to friending your best friend’s brother. But, if there is that line, Castiel assumes he’s long since crossed it by kissing Dean, not only once but three times.

Before he can change his mind, Castiel types and sends a message.

To Dean:) (10:31PM): Hey what are you doing?

Once the message says delivered, he begins to regret the decision to message him. Just because they spent one good night together doesn’t mean they’re friends. Hell, it doesn’t even mean Dean will text him back. They went to the game together to support Sam and went to eat because they were hungry. Castiel was just projecting his newfound appreciation of Dean, whereas the other man likely didn’t feel the same.

His panic is interrupted by a chime from his phone.

Dean:) (10:33PM): Just got home from work, why

So he’s at home, probably exhausted and looking forward to going to bed. Castiel feels foolish for having bothered him. Cheeks bruised with embarrassment, he sends a reply.

To Dean:) (10:33PM): Nevermind, sorry to bother you.

Dean reads the message before he can lock his phone. A second later, two more texts come through.

Dean:) (10:33PM): Dude, what’s up?

Dean:) (10:33PM): You’re not bothering me.

He hesitates. Surely it doesn’t hurt to see, right?

To Dean:) (10:34PM): I’m just trying to get out of my house. Anna and Gabe are driving me insane.

Once again, Dean replies freakishly fast. Honestly, Cas loves it. Even though Dean’s probably just on his phone, so it’s convenient for him to reply fast, it makes Castiel feel like a priority. Which is stupid. He’s not a priority of Dean’s, but he can’t help how the quick replies make him feel.

Dean:) (10:34PM): Oh I see. You want me to break you out?

To Dean:) (10:35PM): I don’t know if it’s technically breaking out if I’m allowed to leave, but essentially yes. If you just got back from work, it’s fine though. I can just go to bed early or something.

He feels stupid the moment he sends that. Dean wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want to do, there’s no reason Castiel should tell him what he already knows.

Dean:) (10:35PM): It’s okay, I need to get out of my apartment anyway and Baby needs to go for a drive. Want to cruise for a bit?

The smile that spreads across his face is honestly ridiculous. But Castiel can’t help how nice it sounds. Dean and him cruising in the night with Baby’s windows down. It sounds lovely, the roar of the Impala and one of Dean’s too old tapes playing blocking out all the inner turmoil in his head.

To Dean:) (10:36PM): That would be great.

Dean:) (10:36PM): I’ll pick you up in 15

Castiel ashes the end of his cigarette again although it’s mostly burned to the filter by now and smashes it out on the roof of the house. Sparks of still lit ash fall off the house and he drops the smashed filter into the mason jar that’s stashed in the alcove. He tucks the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, and carefully swings his leg over the makeshift latter so he can slide down to his bedroom window.

Once safely inside, he - once again - begins to regret every action that led up to this. Why in the hell did he think it was a good idea to text Dean? Just because they had a decent time together yesterday does not mean he can just hit Dean up whenever. They aren’t friends like that. He’s friends with Sam. Hell, he’s in love with Sam. Hanging out with Dean on top of that just complicates everything even more than it already is.

“Okay relax,” He tells himself. They’re just going for a drive, that’s it. There will be no repeats of last night’s horrific decision making, because he’s not going to kiss Dean. If he wants to be friends with him, that’s fine. Dean’s not going to tell Sam they’re hanging out, and Castiel won’t either. Sam won’t know, they won’t kiss, so it’s fine. Everything’s fine.

Before he can talk himself out of the only option he has for leaving his house, Castiel leaves his bedroom and walks downstairs. At least downstairs he won’t have to stare at his guilty face in the mirror.

“Are you leaving?” Chuck asks as soon as Castiel’s foot hits the last step.

Castiel nods, “Yeah, I’m going for a cruise with Dean.”

Anna’s head pokes around the corner of the living room and she gives him a knowing smile, “Ah, you and Dean Winchester going for a cruise, huh? He taking you to the make-out spot he takes all the ladies?”

He swallows and forces himself to speak, “No. We’re just going to drive around.”

“Uh huh,” She says, eyes knowing and voice not at all convinced.

“It’s not like that.” He says, more for his benefit than theirs. It’s not like that. Dean isn’t coming to pick him up to take him to a trashy hookup spot. He knows how Castiel feels about Sam, and he knows Dean wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that.

He stands there for a good minute, zoned completely out, trying to convince himself that it is, indeed, not like that.

“You okay?” Chuck asks, pulling him back to the present.

“Yeah,” Castiel says, “Totally cool. I should go, though, he’ll be here soon.”

“Okay,” His father responds, his voice filled with the same doubt Castiel feels, “Be safe. Let me know when you get home.”

“Yeah I will,” He says, before walking outside and shutting the door behind him.

Anna’s doubt has brought up a string of new worries. Castiel knows that Dean is a playboy. He knows how quick he went through girls in high school. He knows about the hookup spot Anna was talking about, knows that Dean’s been there multiple times with a lot of different girls.

When the roar of the Impala turns on his road, Castiel forces himself to take a deep breath and reminds himself that the growing friendship between him and Dean isn’t like that. Dean might use people all the time, but he wouldn’t do that to Cas. He wouldn’t do that to his brother’s best friend.

Castiel convinces himself of that and truly believes it, that is, until he climbs in the Impala and asks Dean where they’re going.

“There’s a place that I go a lot, I thought we could stop there.”

His panic from earlier sets back in full force. He had been so stupid to think Dean had this hidden deepness, when in reality he was everything everyone said. Castiel’s panic turns up to defcon 2 when Dean turns off the highway onto the road that, if you continue heading North West, takes you to Lookout Point - the hookup capital of Lawrence.

Castiel sits up in his seat, intent on making his discomfort clear, “Dean, I, uh, I-”

But before he gets a chance to finish his sentence, Dean turns onto a gravel road that heads East, the exact opposite of Lookout Point.

“What?” Dean asks, his eyes finding Cas’ in the darkness of the Impala.

He swallows, wondering if there’s another hookup spot Dean might frequent. He figures at the very least, he’ll give Dean the benefit of the doubt.

“Just wanted to say thanks for picking me up. I really appreciate it; I desperately needed to get out of the house, and I’d feel stupid driving nowhere by myself.”

He sees the flash of Dean’s teeth in the dark, knows he’s smiling, and allows himself to relax further into his seat.

“You’re actually doing me a favor. I’m pretty sure I saw Bella’s car sitting outside the apartment, and that is not something I want to deal with tonight.”

He notices Dean’s use of ‘the apartment’ as opposed to ‘my apartment’ and wonders it was intentional.

“Glad I could be of assistance.”

Dean pulls off the side of the road, and Castiel peers out into the darkness.

“We’re here.”

He steps out of the car and immediately understands why Dean brought him here.

“Oh,” Castiel says, eyes looking out at the open ground surrounding them. It’s beautiful. It’s miles of smooth, flat land, and nestled less than a mile from where they parked, is a lake. Even in the darkness, he can tell how vibrant the place is. The moon is reflecting off the lake in a way that looks like it’s from a Disney movie. The stars are in full view, and Castiel can’t look away. This place is the definition of a sanctuary.

Dean must mistake his  _ oh _ for one of disappointment, because he rubs the back of his neck as he says, “I mean, I know it’s the middle of nowhere, but I usually come here when I need to get away, if you’d rather we go somewhere else than that’s cool too-”

“I love it,” Castiel interrupts his rambling (and since when does Dean Winchester ramble?). “It’s just not what I was expecting. I was, uh, kinda thinking you were taking me to a hookup spot.”

“Did you want me to take you to a hookup spot?”

“No!” Castiel says, then flushes, “I just, Anna said something about you taking a lot of girls to lookout point, and I guess she kind of just got in my head.”

“Lookout point,” Dean says slowly, “Right.” His face is as blank as his voice.

“But this is perfect.” Castiel says quickly, not wanting Dean to think he was anything less than grateful, “It’s beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here.”

He watches Dean rub the back of his neck again, obviously uncomfortable with Castiel’s gratitude, “It’s nothing special really, just, uh, has a good view.”

“It’s incredible.” He says, stepping further into the grass that rubs against the bottoms of his jeans. He can’t even begin to explain it. Castiel looks up at the sky, maps the constellations that he knows from memory, and sighs.

This is exactly what he needed. Nowhere in sight is there another car or another person, and the air is still. The soft chirp of cicadas is soothing, calming his frayed nerves.

He looks back at Dean, who’s leaning against the side of the Impala, arms crossed over his chest as he stares out at the same view that takes Cas’ breath away. “How did you find this place?” He asks, reluctant to interrupt the quiet peace that’s settled among them.

“When Sam was little, mom and dad were away on business over the Fourth of July weekend. He was obviously disappointed at missing the holiday, so I bought a shit ton of fireworks - spent my entire allowance and pay check from the garage to buy them, and brought him out here to set them off.” Dean explains, and Castiel watches him smile at the memory, “It was like he’d never seen fireworks before. Wouldn’t stop thanking me until long after we’d headed home. It’s been my go to spot since. When I needed to think, or get away during a fight with Bella. I’d come here.”

And once again, Dean Winchester surprises him. He wasn’t taking Castiel to a hookup spot. Dean was taking him to a wide open sanctuary, with good and bad memories, so that - just maybe - Castiel could appreciate it too.

He drops down into the grass by the road, content to just stare at the beauty in front of him until he dies of hunger or dehydration. The trunk of the Impala opens with a squeak, and a second later, Dean sits down beside him. There are a few inches between them, but not enough for him to call it distant.

“I don’t make it a habit of buying booze for minors, but I thought you might need one just as bad as me.” Dean says, handing him a bottle of Budweiser. It’s cold, condensation forming around the glass of the bottle, and when Castiel takes it in his hand, a few droplets of water fall onto the grass between them.

“You know I’m eighteen right?” He says in response to the minor comment.

Dean shrugs, the movement just visible in the light from the moon, “Like my mom used to say. Eighteen might be an adult, but it’s still not old enough to drink.”

“And did that ever stop you?”

“Nope,” Dean replies with a grin as he cracks open the lid of his bottle.

Castiel tries to do the same, but fails miserably, and holds it out to the other man. Dean grabs the bottle from his hands to crack the lid off easily. He passes the open beer back, and Castiel takes a small sip from the bottle.

It tastes like bitter water, and he’s not really a fan, but he knows beer is more of an acquired taste. He watches Dean from the corner of his eye, watches the way his lips curve around the head of the bottle and he can’t help the chuckle that forces its way out of his mouth.

Who would have thought he’d be here, sharing a beer with Dean Winchester?

“What?” Dean asks, and Castiel shakes his head, smile still on his lips as he looks back out at the lake.

“Nothing.”

“Mm hm,”

It’s then that he remembers the cigarettes in his pocket. He retrieves the pack, pulling a slender stick from the pack and offers on to Dean, who accepts.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Dean says, and Castiel shrugs as he lights it.

“A habit I’m trying to quit.”

He leans over to light Dean’s cigarette for him, the flame illuminating the way the cigarette hangs between his lips. Once lit, he pulls away and takes a long drag of his own.

It’s quiet for a long moment, and Castiel becomes accustomed to the peaceful silence around them. Compared to the nonstop talk of Gabriel and Anna, and even his father’s own words, this place is Heaven.

“You know I’ve only been to Lookout Point twice.” Dean says, breaking the easy silence between them.

Castiel ashes his cigarette, turning to look at Dean in surprise. He watches Dean take a sip from his beer, and Castiel does the same.

Once he swallows, he asks, “Really?”

“Yeah, I went once my Junior year with Rhonda Hurley. Then again Senior year with Bella.” Dean explains, eyes still cast out towards the lake, “Once the time with Rhonda got out, people just started assuming, and I was in no rush to deny it either. Girls would say we went there to impress their friends, and I let people assume what they wanted to.”

Touched that Dean opened up to him, Castiel nods. “Well you know what they say about assuming.”

“Yeah,” Dean huffs a laugh, “Yeah, I do.”

Castiel shifts in the grace, facing Dean more fully, “For the record, I’m sorry I misjudged your intentions.”

He watches as Dean shrugs, content on letting it go, “No stress. I’d assume the same thing if I was you too. But, if we’re going on the record, you could always just ask next time.”

And there’s that next time again. The same connotation and meaning behind the words, but Castiel is content to agree. He assumes that, in some weird roundabout way, they are actually friends now, despite his earlier fears. And he knows, after tonight, that he wouldn’t mind spending more time with Dean.

“Okay then, did you really fill the school pool with jello your senior year?”

He hears Dean laugh next to him, actually laugh - full bellied and melodical. “Yeah Cas,” He says, “Yeah I did.”

Cas bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing too hard, and nudges his shoulder against Dean’s. “That’s pretty badass. You’re still considered the crowned bad boy of Lawrence, you know? I hear your name mentioned at least once a day.”

“All good things, I assume.”

Castiel takes another sip of his beer, “Usually. Almost always its insane stories about things you’ve supposedly done.”

“Glad to know the legend of Dean Winchester lives on,” He hears Dean say, and when he turns to look at him, Dean’s already looking back, “And what about you? Done anything insane recently?”

He laughs, mostly self deprecating, and shrugs. “Not really. You know me: Valedictorian, student council, perfect student.”

“Come on, you have to have done something badass. Something totally impulsive, no thought behind it.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I have,” Castiel admits, “I mean, besides kissing you.”

And shit, he hadn’t meant to bring that up.

He sees Dean smile in the dark, “And you consider that worthy of a badass title?”

“Well, the girls at school certainly would, if they knew.”

“Yeah, well, I am  _ somewhat _ of a badass.”

His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he nods. “Yeah so I’ve heard.”

His back hurts from sitting up, so Castiel scoots forward and lays back. The grass brushes against the back of his head, but it’s more relaxing than irritating. He looks up at the stars, allows himself to think about all the possibilities that might exist. The solar systems they haven’t found, the planets they haven’t explored, the people that might be out there, laying in the grass just like Cas is, thinking the same things.

“It’s late. Is your dad going to be worried?”

“No,” Cas replies, voice soft, “I told him we were going for a cruise.”

“He knows you’re with me?” Dean’s surprised voice says.

Castiel looks over at him, “Yeah, is that a problem?”

“No, it’s just that most parents are weary of me. Broken too many hearts, you know?” He says, a smile on his face that’s not quite genuine. Castiel gets it. The rumors that follow him make him out to be heartless, only after his own personal satisfaction and amusement.

“Well my dad thinks you’re intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” Dean asks, “Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah,” He says, looking back up at the night sky, “Yeah it is.”

It’s sometime later, after they’ve been sitting in silence for a long while, and their cigarettes have long since burned out, that Castiel clears his throat.

“It’s weird. I’ve been friends with Sam for years, and yet I don’t know anything about you.”

It’s an opening to get to know him better, and Castiel hopes Dean takes it. Thankfully, he does.

“Ask me anything you want. No promises that I’ll answer though.”

He looks up at the sky, arms tucked behind his head and contemplates this for a moment. “I know music’s important to you, so what’s your favorite song?”

“It’s a tie actually, between Zep’s Ramble on and Traveling Riverside Blues.” Dean replies automatically and then he says, more hesitant, “Can I ask you stuff too?”

Castiel rolls onto his side so he’s facing Dean, “Sure, shoot.”

“Favorite color?”

“Hmm,” He says aloud, “I guess green. But not just any green, the color of a lush forest green.” He thinks for a moment, trying to come up with a question that he’d like to know the answer to, before deciding on, “What’s your favorite thing to do? Like if you could only do one thing for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

He sees Dean tilt his head back, eyes cast upwards, “Fix cars, I guess. There’s something nice about the routine. I know what the parts do, where they go. I like the mystery too, trying to figure out what’s wrong when everything should be working fine.” Dean replies, “Who’s your favorite sibling?”

The question makes him snort, “Probably Anna. Out of the two she’s must more relaxed. That is, at least, when she’s not around Gabe.” He hesitates before asking his next question, not wanting to push too far and make Dean clam up, “Why did you and Bella break up?”

“She was crazy, man. You have no idea.”

He smiles at the response, decides to prod a little deeper. “Yeah I know that, but how? What made her so crazy?”

“She was just always on my case. Pushing and pushing. And she was possessive, like creepily so. She always wanted to know where I was and what I was doing. Like beyond the lines of just relationship sharing. She was like a stalker.” Dean says, “I would make this fun and ask how many people you’ve slept with, but I already know the answer.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, reaching up to shove Dean on his shoulder. “Shut up, you asshole.” But he’s laughing too hard for his words to have any real bite.

They sit there in silence again, the moment too nice for Castiel to ruin with another question. Once again, he’s struck by how calm and relaxed he feels in Dean’s presence. So unlike just a few days ago, when he would clam up and go on the defensive.

“We should probably get you home. It’s late.”

He reluctantly stands up, handing his empty beer bottle to Dean, who throws it in the back of the Impala. Once on the road again, Castiel curls his feet beneath him and leans his head against the window. The soft purr of the Impala mixed with the melancholy tones of whatever Bob Seger song is playing from the tape deck, make Castiel realize just how tired he actually is.

The drive goes by too fast for him to enjoy, and when Dean pulls up alongside the curb outside Castiel’s house, he - once again - wishes the night wasn’t over yet.

Intent on not making the same mistake he made last night, Castiel puts as much distance between them as he turns to say goodbye. Dean looks just as handsome as he always does, face pulled into a soft, sort of nostalgic smile.

“Thank you, once again. I really did have a good time, and it was much needed.”

He watches Dean shift in his seat before flashing that trademark smirk Cas’ way. “Sure thing, man. Glad I could help.”

“Make sure you check under the bed for Bella before you go to sleep.”

Dean snorts, the sound equal parts cute and amusing, and Castiel smiles.

“I will. Don’t forget, I still owe you dinner.”

“What are you doing this weekend?” Castiel asks impulsively, intent on taking Dean up on the offer. It was about time he started doing things without thinking. Something badass with no thought or preparation behind it.

“Work Friday until six, and all day Saturday.”

“Well then,” Castiel says, his voice more confident than he feels, “Don’t make plans for after work on Friday. I’m going to cash in that dinner.”

He watches Dean’s smile grow, changing from the smirk he always wears to a more genuine smile, “Okay man, just let me know whenever you want to go.”

“I will.” Castiel replies, “Goodnight Dean.”

“Night Cas.”

He exits the car before he can do something stupid, like kiss Dean again, and walks up the path to his front door. He stops this time, just to wave at Dean, who waves back. Castiel walks inside and shuts the door behind him, leaning up against it as he hears the purr of the Impala pulling away.

“Just get back from hanging out with Dean?” Anna says as she rounds the corner from the kitchen.

Her presence is so unexpected that he jumps. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

“So that’s a yes then?”

“Yeah,” He says, “I just got back. And not that it’s any of your business, but he did not take me to a hookup spot.”

“I don’t know what’s more surprising. The fact that he didn’t, or the fact that you spent two hours with him and didn’t jump his bones.” She says, motioning to the clock on the wall that reads 1:12 AM.

She walks off before he can reply, leaving Castiel alone with the realization that he did just spend two whole hours, laying in the grass and talking to Dean about nothing in particular.

That’s something he’s only every done with his family, or with Sam.

He had spent two whole hours with a man that, only days ago, Castiel would have rather shot himself in the foot than see at all. It’s strange, not necessarily in a bad way, but strange still. He had been lonely in need of getting out of the house and doing something, and Dean had provided him with the comfort of his company and the peace and quiet he needed. Cas, once more, feels bad at having assumed Dean’s intentions were anything less than honorable. He regrets thinking that Dean wasn’t as deep and complicated as he, no doubt, actually is. Castiel can name on one hand the names of people that he thinks would do what Dean just did for him.

Well, he thinks, he might just be more fucked than he realized.

It’s not until he lays in bed that night, after checking in with his father and taking a much needed steaming shower, that he checks his phone.

Sam (1:13 AM): Sorry man, I took a nap that ended up being a whole sleep. What’s up?

Dean:) (1:33 AM): Apartment is Bella clear. Sleep well

He reads Sam’s message, not bothering to reply this late. He does, however, type out a message to Dean.

To Dean:) (1:39 AM): That’s good to know, and you too.

Yeah, he thinks, definitely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As for the long term plans I have for this fic, there are none. I have a few scenes planned out and a general direction on where this is going, but for the most part I am writting my the seat of my pants.


	5. Monday, April 15th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just another shitty chapter from your's truly. Come scream with me about that insane season finale on tumblr??? (I'm still so fucking shook!)
> 
> (Guess who has her last final tomorrow! Also i'm posting this late and im tired and didn't edit very good so tbh i have no idea if it even makes sense.) 
> 
> Love it? hate it?  
> tell me :)

When he wakes up Monday morning and finds three new text messages on his phone, Castiel’s first thought is that Gabriel must have gotten arrested. This thought changes, of course, once he reads who the messages are from. The first two are expected, but the third surprises him.

Sam (7:29 AM): You have plans for after school today?

Sam (7:30 AM): Because I’m thinking: you, me, and Pet Sematary.

Dean:) (7:43 AM): Dude… I just had a guy come into the shop named Samandriel. That’s got to be an angel name too. Cool, right?

The message makes him roll his eyes, but his smile is fond. Dean had teased him for years about being named after an angel, and Castiel had spent those years thinking Dean had meant it maliciously, but maybe - just maybe - he hadn’t intended it that way at all. Maybe he had thought it was unique. His eyes focus on the  _ cool, right? _

He response to Sam’s messages first.

To Sam (7:50 AM): Sounds good! I’ve been wanting to see that

Then he pulls back open Dean’s message and stares at the screen. He types out three different messages before deciding on one he likes.

To Dean:) (7:50 AM): Samandriel?? Sounds like it.

To Dean:) (7:51 AM): That’s so cool!!!

To Dean:) (7:51 AM): Samandriel? It sounds like it might be angel related

To Dean:) (7:51 AM): You’d be surprised how many people are actually named after angels, intentionally or not.

He rolls out of bed with a stupid smile on his face. By the time he gets dressed and heads downstairs, his mood for the day has already been instilled. Even Gabriel and Anna won’t be able to ruin his mood. Castiel’s not sure why he’s so happy, although he thinks it’s because he has solid plans with Sam for after school. At least, that’s what he’s going to tell himself.

“You seem like you’re in a good mood.” His father says as Castiel drops into the seat next to him.

His hands catch the coffee mug Chuck slides his way, and he shrugs, “Just one of those days I guess.”

Chuck’s eyes look a little too knowing, and when Castiel’s phone vibrates against the table, he’s glad for the excuse. He figures it’s Sam but, surprisingly, it’s Dean.

Dean:) (8:01 AM): What about Dean? Any chance that’s angelic too?

He can’t help but smile at his phone.

To Dean:) (8:02 AM): Unfortunately, I don’t think so. Looks like you can’t be in the cool kids’ club. 

To Dean:) (8:02 AM): Shouldn’t you be working?

Once again, Dean responses lighting fast.

Dean:) (8:02 AM): What a shame. Any chance I can buy my way in? (And I can multitask, you know. I’m under a 1955 Chrysler C-300 right now)

It’s strange, but Castiel gets a glowing feeling in his chest at the thought of Dean taking the time out of his day to respond to Castiel, especially when he’s working.

“You texting Sam?” His father asks, his tone amused and interested.

Castiel looks up from Dean’s last message to see his father’s knowing smile. “No, actually I’m not.” But now he’s curious, “Why do you think I’m texting Sam?”

Chuck folds the newspaper he’s been reading and lays it on the table between them, “You just have that look on your face. The one you get whenever you talk about him.”

“He’s right,” Anna says, appearing behind their father and leaning over his shoulder, her head propped up on her hand and her elbow on his shoulder. “You only ever get this look when Sam gives you a heart boner.”

Chuck turns his head, giving Anna a raised eyebrow look, and she scoffs, “Just saying what we’re all thinking.”

“Well I’m not texting Sam, so case closed.” He says, words a little snappier than he had intended. He focuses on the paper his father had left on the table, ignoring Chuck and Anna’s words as he thinks. Castiel knows he gets a little far away and dreaming when he thinks about Sam, but he’s not talking to Sam. He’s talking to Dean, so there’s no way he had that dumb look on his face.

None of the headlines call out to him, so he takes the opportunity to respond to Dean.

To Dean:) (8:09 AM): I don’t think that’s quite how it works… And if you’re working, I won’t bother you. Don’t want you dropping a car on yourself.

By the time he finishes his coffee and returns the mug to the sink, he has a new message waiting for him.

Dean:) (8:11 AM): I already told you. You’re not bothering me.

To Dean:) (8:12 AM): That was Saturday.

Dean:) (8:12 AM): Fine. You’re not bothering me.

The words are the silent indicator he needed. Even after their little outing on Saturday night, Castiel was still a little concerned that he was reading far too much into this, but Dean’s assurance that he’s not bothering him is nice. Maybe he wasn’t reading into it. Maybe they were actually becoming, dare he say it, friends. Deciding to text his luck, Castiel types out a reply.

To Dean:) (8:13 AM): Good. Where are we eating Friday?

He sees that Dean reads the message almost immediately, but unlike before, he doesn’t reply as soon as Castiel was expecting.

“I’m off. Have a good day at school.” Chuck says, pulling Castiel’s eyes away from his phone.

“Bye, enjoy writing.”

Chuck smiles, the wrinkles around his eyes growing more prominent. He drops a kiss to the top of Castiel’s head. “Always do.”

When he leaves, Castiel unlocks his phone again. This time, there are three little dots showing that Dean’s typing. A second later, they disappear. Then they come back. Then disappear once more. He frowns, quickly realizing that Dean is typing multiple messages and then deleting them. Like most times things don’t go according to plan, Cas’ brain jumps from calm to panic, running through every single bad situation there is.

Maybe Dean was joking, and he hadn’t actually intended for Castiel to take him up on the offer. Or he was sick of his company already. Maybe Castiel really was reading into things and Dean still saw him as Sam’s friend and was trying to politely get rid of him.

His phone vibrates, and Castiel hurries to read the new message, expecting the worst.

Dean:) (8:17 AM): Where ever you want

And that was… vague. His thoughts solidify almost as soon as he reads it, and Castiel feels the horrific feeling of mortification spread up his back and into his neck and cheeks. This was in no way the first time he’d looked into something, made up this picture perfect idea in his head, only to have it come crashing down in the real world. The last thing he wants is to be the butt of the joke between Dean and his actual friends.

To Dean:) (8:17 AM): If you’ve changed your mind, I assure you that you can just tell me.

Dean replies so fast Castiel doesn’t have a chance to regret the message.

Dean:) (8:17 AM): What?

Dean:) (8:17 AM): Do you not want to go?

His brow furrows in confusion. When did he ever said he didn’t want to go?

To Dean:) (8:17 AM): I’m asking if you want to go.

Dean:) (8:18 AM): And I’m asking if you want to.

To Dean:) (8:18 AM): I never said I didn’t!

Dean:) (8:18 AM): Okay then. So we’re going.

To Dean:) (8:19 AM): We don’t have to if you don’t want to.

Dean:) (8:19 AM): Damn are you always this difficult? I never said I didn’t want to.

He hesitates, but after recalling the hint of vulnerability Dean showed him Saturday, Castiel decides to type his message, anyway.

To Dean:) (8:20 AM): I wasn’t sure if you saying ‘where ever you want’ was a polite attempt at canceling.

Dean:) (8:20 AM): …

Dean:) (8:20 AM): You’re unbelievable, you know? I thought I’d be nice and let you pick. I promise if I was canceling, I’d tell you.

His frown wavers a little at that last message. Okay, so maybe he jumped to conclusions a few seconds too early, but he usually does. If they’re going to be friends, that’s something Dean will need to come to expect.

To Dean:) (8:21 AM): I think you meant unbelievably amazing, and I honestly don’t care where we go. I’m bad at making decisions, pick for me?

Dean:) (8:21 AM): Yeah Cas. That’s what I meant. And how about the new place off of fifth?

His eyebrows furrow once more.

To Dean:) (8:22 AM): The new Italian place?

Dean:) (8:22 AM): I like Italian.

Fair enough, he supposes.

To Dean:) (8:23 AM): Okay then. The new Italian place.

To Dean:) (8:23 AM): Tell me about the car you’re working on?

Three little dots pop up again, and Castiel smiles.

He makes it through the first half of the day easily, and when he sits down at the picnic table for lunch, he’s grateful for the reprieve of annoyance. Meg hands him a cigarette before he can speak, and he smiles as she lights it.

His phone vibrates, and he unlocks it to see a new message from Dean. Castiel takes a drag from his cigarette, holds it for a second, before blowing it out into the wind.

Dean:) (12:22 PM): Dude, you literally have no idea. I feel like I’m surrounded by stupidity.

Castiel grins at his phone, typing out another response. They’ve been texting the majority of the day, Dean talking about his coworkers and Cas responding with antics of his own.

To Dean:) (12:23 PM): I’m sorry, some people just aren’t as great as you.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” Meg asks.

He looks up from his phone, finds her smiling not maliciously but curious, at him as she ashes her cigarette on the ground.

“What?”

She motions to his phone with her free hand, “Whoever you’re texting has you in a good mood.”

And Castiel thinks, maybe since it’s been mentioned twice in one day he should look into it. But his mom used to say “twice is a coincidence, three times’ a sign.” so he decides to wait and give it one more time before he even begins to touch the mess that is Sam and Dean Winchester.

“Just texting Sam.” He responds, knowing that she already suspects his feelings for Sam. No reason telling the truth, mostly because he’s not really sure what the truth is at this point.

“Really?” She responds, lips drawn in a thin line, “Because I could have sworn Sam told me he left his phone at home this morning.”

Busted.

“I, uh, I just-”

“Dude, relax.” Meg interrupts the beginning of his ramblings, “You don’t have to tell me. Just know that you can.”

He sinks into his chair, the cherry of his cigarette burning bright between his fingers, “Thank you. I just, it’s complicated and I don’t want to have to think it through yet.”

“Trust me, I understand that more than anyone else could. But when you’re finally forced into realizing whatever you’re too scared to realize now, just know I’m an open ear.”

The cigarette burns slow as he stares at it, too afraid to look at his friend for fear that she’ll somehow read his mind, “Thanks Meg. I’ll remember that.”

When Sam and Balthazar eventually join them, Castiel keeps his eyes on the burning end of his cigarette.

They end up meeting at the movie theater a little after six, and Castiel sits in his car for a good ten minutes trying to talk himself off the metaphorical ledge in his head. He assures himself a million times that everything is fine. There’s no reason to get worked up about things he can’t control. And this is Sam, Sam who knows him better than he’s ever known himself, who’s always been with him and supported him without fault.

He gets out of the car, letting the door shut behind him, and makes his way inside.

Sam’s already in the theater, already picked out seats and got them popcorn and two sodas each. Castiel pays for his ticket, and finds Sam sitting in the middle of the theater, in Castiel’s favorite spot.

“Hey,” Sam says, waving to draw his attention as Castiel enters the darkened room.

“Hey,” He responds, taking the seat next to Sam, “Sorry I’m late, got caught up with Gabriel.”

Lie.

“It’s okay, we’ve still got a few minutes before it starts, anyway.”

The screen is playing some introductory clips about the theater, and he takes the opportunity to check his phone.

Dean:) (6:02 PM): I can’t believe you haven’t seen a single Indiana Jones movie. What have you been doing with your life?

To Dean:) (6:15 PM): You know, studying anthropology in real life…

He mutes his phone, shoving it into his pocket and stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl. It’s warm and slick in his hand, saturated in so much butter that it makes him wince, but he knows it’s worth it. Movie popcorn is better than most.

His phone vibrates against his hip, the motion loud enough for Sam to hear.

“You gonna get that?”

“No,” Castiel responds, “It can wait.”

Sam gives him a curious look, too deep and thoughtful for Castiel to think anything good can come from it. He’s about to say something, tell Sam another lie about how its Anna or Gabriel, but then the lights dim even further, pitching them into darkness, and the opportunity vanishes before he gets the chance. 

The movie is incredible. It’s more complex than the book, the plot drawing him in and the jump scares keeping him on edge. It’s somewhere near the end of the movie, as the main character walks alone in the dark, that Castiel knows a jump scare is coming. He looks away from the screen, but can’t keep his eyes from finding their way back. As the music swells, he squints, barely able to see out of his eyes. He turns, unable to look, and hides his face in the fabric of Sam’s jacket. The material is starch against his skin, but it smells like the Winchester’s fabric softener and Sam’s cologne, so he can’t complain. He feels Sam’s body shake with the force of his laugh, no doubt his eyes are still glued to the screen and he’s delighting in Castiel’s misery. That is what best friends are for, after all.

He hears a scream from on screen and knows that the jump scare as passed. He allows himself to look back at the screen, not worrying - for once - about the implications of him being so near Sam. For the first time since he realized he loved him, Cas isn’t worried that he’s somehow going to give himself away. He’s just happy for the moment they have now and relaxes further into his seat.

They decide to go to Benny’s after the movie; the popcorn having done nothing to fill their growling stomachs. He follows Sam there, pulling into the parking space next to him. Once he turns off the car, he checks his messages.

Dean:) (6:23 PM): I wish you could see how hard I just rolled my eyes

He snorts and types out another message.

To Dean:) (8:34 PM): Be careful, they’ll get stuck like that. (Sorry for the late response, went to the movies with Sam)

He gets out of the car; the door shutting loudly in the silence of the night behind him. It’s still warm outside, although the sun setting has given the air a cooler feel against his bare arms.

Benny’s is a warm and comfortable reprieve from the stillness that surrounds them outdoors, and as Castiel drops down into a booth across from Sam, he wonders why he doesn’t come here more often. They used to meet here for breakfast before school last year, but the tradition weathered away when Cas realized that getting up early was not worth it.

“What can I get ya boys?” Benny asks, his accent as thick as the first time Castiel met him.

“Can I get the small Jambalaya and a coke?” Castiel says, his voice naturally friendly. He’s always loved Benny, and his cooking.

“Same for me.” Sam adds on after him, and they watch as Benny jots down a quick, jumbled strew of words in his notebook.

“Comin’ right up.”

Once Benny turns from their table, Castiel’s phone vibrates against his hip. He pulls his out, checking his message as inconspicuous as possible. Sam’s too busy amusing himself with the peg board game that sits on the table to notice.

Dean:) (8:44 PM): Oh, date night?

To Dean:) (8:45 PM): If you mean literally a date, then no. Just friendly bonding.

Like usual, the reply is almost immediate.

Dean:) (8:45 PM): You could change that you know

He breathes a heavy sigh through his nose. He doesn’t expect Dean to understand, but a little compassion towards his cause would be nice.

To Dean:) (8:46 PM): We’ve talked about this.

Dean:) (8:47 PM): Maybe I just like annoying you

That pulls a reluctant smile out of him and Castiel rolls his eyes as he thumbs out a response.

To Dean:) (8:47 PM): Cheeky.

Dean:) (8:47 PM): Cheeky is my natural habitat.

Sam clears his throat and Cas looks up from his phone, trying to school his, no doubt, guilty face.

“So, there’s something I’ve been wanting to discuss with you.” Sam says slowly, and Cas panics.

His first two thoughts resemble the following: Sam knows about his crush or Sam knows about Dean.

He honestly doesn’t know which one is worse.

He figures if Sam figured out about his crush that’s probably on him. It’s unlikely Dean would be on Cas’ case about telling Sam if he was planning on doing it for him, and considering Dean is the only person who he’s confirmed his crush on Sam to, he knows it must have been his own fault. Cas has never been subtle, so maybe that stint in the movie just proved what Sam already thought.

If Sam’s talking about Dean, then he knows that Dean would have been the one to say something. Castiel’s kept his lips shut tighter than when Anna had told him about losing her virginity (not that his silence did much considering Gabriel’s blog post). He doesn’t see Dean spilling this, though, because he had seemed just as content to downplay their friendship as Castiel had. And if Dean did tell Sam, surely he would have given Cas some sort of heads up.

So the outcome is leaning towards Castiel accidently having revealed his feelings. Wonderful.

“What?” He forces out, the words sounding strangely clipped.

“I’d like to think I’m pretty perceptive.” Sam starts, and Castiel feels the world around him crumble. Here comes the ‘I love you but not in that way’ talk.

“Okay.”

“So I’ve noticed something different in you lately. You’ve been smiling at your phone nonstop today, and your mood’s just been better. So I just wanted to say that if there’s someone in your life, I want you to feel like you can tell me.”

He’s equal parts relieved and mortified. Sam doesn’t know about his feelings, but this makes the third time today that someone has mentioned him smiling at Dean’s messages.

Twice is a coincidence, three times’ a sign he guesses.

“Sam, I know that.” Castiel says, not wanting Sam to feel like Castiel would ever not trust him, “I’m not with someone. I just, uh, it’s complicated.”

“Well, if you ever need someone to talk it out with, I’d be happy to help.”

“Thank you,” He says, voice dry and rough around the edges.

Sam seems so genuine, so happy to be a part of helping Castiel get with this mystery man, that it almost confirms what Castiel already knows: Sam doesn’t return his feelings.

There’s a fraction of a percent of him that remains hopeful. If the situations were reversed, Castiel would wholeheartedly support Sam and whatever relationship he found himself in. Because his love for Sam overshadows his need to be with him. He loves Sam so much, that he wants nothing more than his happiness, even if Castiel isn’t the one who gives it to him.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Castiel asks, “That I didn’t tell you.”

“Of course I’m not mad,” Sam says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Cas relaxes. That is until he says, “It’s not like your dating my brother and didn’t tell me.”

He freezes in his seat. The comment was thrown out, like the entire option was completely laughable. Like Sam knows Castiel would never be involved with Dean behind his back. Like the idea is so absurd he could never imagine it. Like he thinks Castiel is a good enough friend not to do that.

He calms himself down by repeating an internal mantra of, “You’re not dating him. You’re just friends.”

But when Castiel returns Sam’s smile and says, “Of course not,” His words and his smile both fall flat.

Sam doesn’t seem to notice, though, and Benny interrupts with the arrival of their food. The smell of Benny’s homemade Jambalaya - one that usually makes his stomach growl and mouth water - now just makes him nauseous.

When he gets home an hour later, the house is empty. The kitchen light is on, illuminating the three sticky notes that are on the fridge.

_ Taking Richard back to walmart for round 2. Be back later - G _

_ Studying late at Uriel’s! Finals beware!!! - Anna _

_ Got called into a late editors meeting. I’ll be back late. - Dad _

He goes upstairs, flinging himself too dramatically onto his bed and buries his face in the pillows. He knows he’s being a melodramatic little shit, but when you’re eighteen and your life is crumbling, it’s always best to do just that.

The bed sheets are soft against his face, comfortable and smelling like home. It calms him down enough that he doesn’t feel the need to go outside and smoke, so he considers that point one for Castiel, point 0 for existential crisis.

He drags his phone from his pocket, looking at the three new messages on his screen.

Dean:) (9:56 PM): How was your “not” date with Sammy?

Meg (10:13 PM): Wanna skip periods 1-3 tomorrow and go with me to the mechanic? My car’s shit.

Sam (10:14 PM): Had a great time tonight! We need to hang out (outside our houses) more. :)

He replies with an affirmative to both Sam and Meg, before pulling open Dean’s message and staring at it. The smiley face in his contact name taunts him until he decides, why the fuck not, and presses the Call Contact button.

Cas holds the phone up to his ear, listening to it ring three times until he hears the click of the other line being answered.

“Hello?”

He’d be lying if he said the sound of Dean’s voice didn’t soothe away the rest of his fears. There’s something about the deep rumble of his voice that is so calming, in a way that Castiel refuses to look into at the moment.

“Hi,” He replies, voice almost timid. He hopes he doesn’t regret this.

“Hi.”

“I, uh, I’m not interrupting anything am I?”

“Nah man,” Dean replies quick, “Just got in from working on Baby.”

“Nothing bad, I hope.”

“Just an oil change, I’ve been meaning to do it for a while but I haven’t had an opportunity. Tonight seemed like as good of a time as any.” Dean says, “How was your night out with Sam?”

He figured this would come up.

“It was nice.” Castiel answers, “We went to see Pet Sematary, Sam’s choice, probably because he knows that horror movies scare the shit out of me. Then we dropped by Benny’s for dinner.”

“Dinner and a movie? You expect me to believe that wasn’t a date?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s not a date if he asks if I’ve been seeing someone.”

He hears Dean’s surprise through his words, “He asked that?” and then, after a moment, he asks quieter, “Are you?”

“What? No, I’m not seeing anyone. I’m in love with him, remember? But apparently I’ve been acting different and smiling at my phone or whatever and he just assumed.”

“Have you been acting differently?” Dean asks.

“I don’t know; I mean, I don’t think so? I’m not sure how I’m acting that’s any different from normal.”

“Well, who’s got you smiling at your phone so much?”

“Please don’t act like you don’t already know it’s you.” Castiel says, “Modesty doesn’t suit you, Dean.”

He hears Dean’s snort through the phone, “It’s not my fault my texts are hilarious and cunning.”

Castiel smiles, pleasantly annoyed once again by Dean’s shenanigans. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously sexy, yes I know.”

“Shut up, oh my God.” But his words are uttered between laughs, so they hold no bite.

“Please don’t act like you don’t agree.” Dean parrots back his earlier words, “The whole damn world knows it baby.”

He licks his lips, his smile stretched too wide and groans, “You’re unbelievable. And I swear to god if you say unbelievably sexy I will hang up.”

“You’re the one who said it.”

“I’m seriously starting to wonder why I’m friends with you.”

“Let me just pull my list out. Number 1) I’m insanely hot. 2) The world’s best kisser. 3) My personality is the definition of the sun. 4) My taste in music is perfect. 5) Did I mention hot yet?”

Castiel laughs, the melody of his amusement echoing through the phone, and he knows without a doubt that Dean’s smiling on the other end.

“I guess that’s fair enough.” He teases, “And I suppose, you’re a decent kisser. I don’t know about the other ones though,”

“Decent kisser? Please, I rocked your world.”

“It was okay, but I have no comparison. For all I know, you could be the worst kisser alive and I just don’t know better.”

“Oh please, once you kiss someone else you’ll realized that I’ve ruined kissing other people for you. My kisses are an art form. I put years of practice into play just for you, Cas.”

He hesitates on replying, thinking back and replaying the memories of them kissing in his head. The feeling of Dean running his fingers over Cas’ body, the soft glide of their lips together, the sounds that Dean made. Okay, then. 

“Whatever you say, Dean.” He sighs into the phone, “Whatever you say.”

“Wanna tell me why you took so long to respond there, Cas?” Dean asks, and his voice sounds deeper, almost predatory.

“Just thinking.”

“Mmhm,” Dean replies, “Thinking about the kiss, right? How good it felt?”

He smiles against his will, “Maybe.”

“I told you, man. After kissing Dean Winchester, you’re ruined for life.”

“Your sense of self is extraordinary.”

“Only because I know it’s true. Just wait and see.”

“I guess I will.” He murmurs around a yawn. He didn’t realize how damn tired he was.

“You should get some sleep. I can feel your exhaustion through the phone.”

He wants to disagree, press that he’s not too tired to continue this conversation, mostly because he really enjoys talking to Dean. But when he yawns again, Castiel knows it’s time for him to sack out.

“You’re probably right.”

“I tend to be most of the time,”

“Shut up,” Castiel teases back, “This has been nice. Let me know about Friday, okay?”

“Of course. Sleep well, Cas.”

“I will,” He response, “and you too, Dean. Have a good day tomorrow.”

“You too. Goodnight.”

“Night,” He responds again, wanting to prolong the call as long as he can. He doesn’t hang up, instead waiting for Dean to do it first, but he surprisingly doesn’t.

“I swear if we do that whole ‘you hang up first’ shit, I will literally throw up.” Dean says, although his words are coated in amusement.

“I’ll hang up then.” Castiel says, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

His words hold the assumption that tomorrow will be like today. That they’ll text all day and maybe even share another late-night phone call, full of teasing and jokes. Castiel is not surprised by the idea that he wants to talk to Dean more. He knows that, by now, they’ve crossed the line separating acquaintances and friends. Hell, they jumped past that line Saturday night when they went cruising. He just didn’t expect that he’d be so happy about it. Cas worries for half a second that Dean might not want that, but Dean responds before he can panic.

“I’ll hold you to that.” He murmurs, “Good night.”

“Night.” He says, once more for good measure before hitting the red end call button before he can change his mind. He double checks his alarm before dropping his phone onto the bedside table. Castiel buries his head in the pillows again, but this time it’s hiding his smile.

When he finally falls asleep that night, he has the strangest dream. It’s him and Dean, sitting on the hood of Baby, overlooking the lake Dean had taken him to on Saturday. The sun is setting, casting the sky into beautiful hues of color, and Castiel wants nothing more than to kiss the soft smile off of Dean’s face. He feels so content, feels like everything in his life has slid together so perfectly and beautifully, that nothing could ruin it.

And when dream Dean leans over and kisses Castiel before he can say anything, well, it’s not like dream Castiel pulls away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its subtle, but there's clues in here about 2 upcoming chapters ;)


	6. Tuesday, April 16th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have finally decided on a sort of outline for this fic, and I can't wait to get the next couple of chapters out! 
> 
> I love hearing your thoughts on this! What you think is going to happen, what you want to happen, just your thoughts in general! I'd love to know what you think. xx
> 
> I was feeling kind of melancholy when I wrote the ending of this, and it one hundred percent bled through so I apologize lol.

He picks Meg up around eight o’clock the next morning. As soon as she sees his car in the driveway, she’s walking out the front door, flashing him the brightest smile and tossing her head to the side. He groans, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the door. His feet hit the ground, and he tosses her the keys, making his way to the passenger side.

“Thanks for letting me drive, Clarence.” Her raspy voice purrs as she takes the seat he vacated. He climbs in next to her, buckling the seat belt over his chest and rolling his eyes.

“Not like I have much of a choice.”

He sees her amusement in the arch of her eyebrows from behind the thick-rimmed glasses she wears. “You know you love me, bitch.”

Before she shifts the car into reverse, she pulls out a pack of Marlboro Red 100’s. The pack is flipped open, and she pulls two long cigarettes out, handing one to Cas. He accepts it, flicking the lighter until the flames come to life and lick the end of the cigarette.

“Which shop are we going to again?”

There’s a quirk to the side of her lips that makes Castiel narrow his eyes, “Singer’s Auto.”

Singer’s Auto? It takes a moment, just a fraction of a second before he realizes why the name sounded so familiar. It’s Bobby Singer’s shop. Bobby Singer as in Sam Winchester’s adopted Uncle of sorts. As in the shop where Dean works.

All of a sudden Meg’s knowing smile makes a hell of a lot more sense.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” He asks as he ashes out the window. The words hold more bite than he had meant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Meg replies, “I’m just going to get my car.”

“And we both know that Allen’s Body shop is about twenty minutes closer to your house.”

“Bobby’s had better reviews. In fact, Sam’s brother had the best reviews in town.”

And it all comes together quite quickly. So Meg knows. He doesn’t know how exactly, whether she had stolen his phone or just picked up on it with her crazy demon like capabilities. But Castiel knows she knows, and the thought - for once - isn’t the end of the world. Castiel doesn’t know exactly what’s going on with Dean and him, but the thought that someone else actually knows about their growing friendship, or whatever it is, relaxes him.

“Go ahead, make all your jokes.”

Meg pulls down her glasses and looks over the top of her shades, “For once Clarence, I don’t think I have any. In fact, I think it’s about time you got over Sammy. And with his brother? That’s some cold shit, but I get it. Dean Winchester is, well, he’s Dean Winchester. There’s a reason that name has such a connotation to. I mean, you have seen him right? Kid’s hot as hell.”

“I still love Sam.” Castiel defends, “Dean and I are only friends.”

She replaces her sunglasses before Castiel can see the doubt in her eyes. “Sure thing, Cassie. In that case, we’re just going to get my car.”

He blows out the rest of the smoke in his lungs, cigarette burned down to the filter, and tosses it out the window. They’re just going to get the car. He repeats it countless times in his head, until the words ring hollow and meaningless.

When they pull up outside of Bobby’s, Meg parks the car and hops outside. She’s dressed in short jean shorts that barely cover her ass, a loose white tank top that hangs low on the sides revealing her bralette and miles of pale skin. There’s a part of him, just the beginnings of envy in his chest, that wonder if Dean will think she’s hot.

When they enter the body shop, the smell of gasoline and grease is heavy in the air. He follows Meg, assumes she has some idea of where to go amid the ruckus of too loud machinery and engines revving. In front of them is a small information desk of sorts and there is a tall man with wide shoulders and dirty coveralls bent over a stack of papers attached to clipboards. He looks up as the approach, as if he could sense them coming. From the way his eyes drop like lead to Meg’s bare skin, Castiel wonders if he doesn’t have some sort of estergon tracker.

“Hi there,” He greets them, and now that they are close enough Castiel can make out the crudely written name adorned to his coveralls, Zeke. “How can I help you?” He asks, his words polite and a contradiction to the almost indecent way he looks at Meg.

“Hey sugar, I dropped my car off here a couple of days ago and I got a call saying I needed to come in to see the mechanic.” She answers him, her words sweet and tone somehow sweeter.

“I’ll look you right up. What’s your name?”

“Meg Masters. It’s a 2006 Ford Fusion.”

He types on a neatly placed laptop, fingers moving too slowly on the keyboard, and Castiel glances around the shop. It’s a nice place, high metal ceilings framed with sturdy wood. There are several men that he sees walking around. One is writing on a clipboard, eyes trained as he writes feverishly on the paper. Another man is underneath an older car and Castiel can see his grease smudged shoes from underneath the side of the car.

“Here you are,” Zeke says, pulling Castiel’s attention away from the men who scatter among them. He feels flushed, nervous, and as much as he wants to lie to himself, he knows exactly why.

“Okay, I’ll go get the guy who worked on your car. You can have a seat right there.” He motions to a set of rackety, worn chairs that look like everyone in the county has set on them.

“Uh, where’s your bathroom?” Castiel asks, hoping for the opportunity to explore the shop a little more, and maybe run into a certain Winchester.

“Right through those doors and on your left.”

“Thanks,” He smiles at Zeke, watching Meg take a seat on one of the chairs. She does so too dramatically, putting her long legs on display and Castiel knows the show isn’t for him. He follows Zeke’s directions, walking through the set of double wooden doors and following the well-lit hallway. The shop is cleaner than he suspected, the walls and floors wiped clean. He finds the bathroom with ease, but ignores it - since he didn’t actually have to go in the first place, and looks around. There’s an open door about ten feet further down the hallway, and Castiel can hear the methodical clack of fingers on computer keys from where he stands.

He walks closer, peeking around the corner into the office and sighing to himself. It’s not Dean. Instead, there’s an older man behind the desk. He’s wearing a dirty baseball cap and a flannel, and every so often he runs his fingers through the mess of facial hair that extends over his lip and around the sides of his face.

Just as he’s about to continue walking, the man looks up and spots him hovering in the doorway.

“You just gonna stand there or you gonna come in?”

He steps further into the doorway and points back towards the bathroom with a jerk of his thumb, “Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

The man’s eyes narrow and then his face morphs into an expression of recognition. “Wait a minute, I know you.” He rubs his greased stained fingers through his beard and then smiles, “You’re Sam’s friend.”

And, oh, this must be Bobby. 

“Yes I’m Castiel, and you’re Bobby Singer.”

Bobby smiles and Castiel allows himself to relax just a fraction. He hadn’t found Dean, but at least he hadn’t stumbled into some random guy’s office. 

“I am,” The man says, his eyes narrowing again, “There a reason your walking around dropping into offices?”

“I, uh, was just looking for the bathroom.”

“Sure you were.” Bobby says and glances down at the desk in front of him. “Just give me one second.” He picks up the old landline from his desk and dials a number. Castiel looks away as Bobby mutters something about, “get your ass down here,” on the phone and assumes he’s calling another mechanic. When Bobby hangs up, he looks at Castiel expectantly. 

“It was nice meeting you, but I should probably go see if my friend has gotten her car yet.”

Before Bobby can reply, there’s a new voice from the hallway. 

“Bobby, I was already elbow deep in that convertible. What exactly is so pressing that I needed to come-” The voice cuts off. When Castiel turns around, and he knows how cliche is sounds, his jaw actually falls open a litte. Dean’s behind him, wearing a light grey t shirt smudged in dirt and grease, and Castiel has never seen someone look so good. His jeans are flattering, dark wash and so damn tight that Cas wonders how he can walk in them. Sam’s amulet hangs around his neck and he’s wiping his hands on a white towel, and there are a couple of streaks of dirt on his face and it somehow makes him look even more attractive. 

“Cas?” Dean stops just inside the door, a mere foot from where Castiel is all but rooted to the spot. 

“Hey,” Cas says, and his voice is hoarse. Castiel clears his throat and swallows, and he thinks he sees Dean’s eyes glance at his throat. 

The surprise on Dean’s face is replaced by that comfortable smirk all too suddenly, “What are you doing here?” It’s obvious by his tone that he’s looking forward to making fun of whatever Cas’ answer is. 

“My friend is picking up her car,” He responds. 

“Oh is she now?” 

“She is.”

Dean’s lips curve up even further and Castiel doesn’t know what he said that’s so amusing. Castiel is content to stare at Dean until the oceans dry up, but Bobby coughs. 

“If you idjits will excuse me,” Bobby says, and Castiel takes that as their cue to leave. He says goodbye to Bobby and follows Dean out the office door. 

“So you came with Meg to get her car?” 

“Yeah,” Castiel says, forgetting that Sam has most likely mentioned Meg to his brother. “But, for what it's worth, I was kinda hoping I’d run into you.”

Dean’s smile is somehow smug and shy at the same time. “And why’s that?”

Bobby’s door shuts behind them, and Castiel suddenly becomes aware of how close they’re standing. It’s silent in the hallway, no sound of the machinery from the garage, just Castiel standing way too close to Dean. 

“Uh, I wanted to see you.”

Dean takes a step closer to him and when Castiel steps back to put room between them, he ends up with his back pressed against the wall behind him. 

“And why’d you want to see me?” Dean says, his voice almost a whisper as he takes one step closer. There’s only a few inches between them, and when Castiel takes a breath to try and calm himself down, he only ends up inhaling the smell of oil and Dean’s cologne. 

“I just thought we could talk, you know, or um, yeah.”

The smile on Dean’s face quirks in the corner and his forehead comes to rest against Castiel’s. They’re so close, so damn close, that Castiel can’t breath. 

“What exactly do I know?” Dean murmurs, his breath blowing hot against Castiel’s lips and he wants nothing more than to lean forward and kiss him. 

There’s a streak of oil right by his nose that draws out the deep gold flecks in his eyes. Castiel can’t look away, not when Dean smiles again, or when their noses brush, or when Dean’s eyelashes flutter as his eyes close and he leans forward just a fraction to finally bring their lips-

“Am I interrupting something?”

At the sound of Meg’s voice, they jump apart, lips having never even touched, and Castiel knows there’s a flush of shame on his face. He peeks a glance up at Dean, who looks guilty, like he just got caught stealing money from his younger brother. 

“No,” Castiel says, the words coming out rushed. “What does that mean? Of course not.”

From the look on Meg’s face, he knows she’s not impressed by his attempt at lying. “Ohhkay then,” She says, “I just thought I’d let you know I got my car back and see if you wanted to grab lunch before we head back to school?”

School, right. He had to get back to school. Castiel drags his eyes away from Meg and looks back at Dean.

“I'll meet you outside.” Meg says, her voice amused and even though Castiel’s not looking at her, he knows she has that ridiculous expression on her face. 

He hears her leave and notices that Dean’s eyes don’t look away. They don’t trail after the line of her long legs or the way her ass hangs just barely out of her pants, or the bright pink lace thong that’s too hide on her hips. His gaze stays focused on Castiel, green eyes burning into his skin. 

“I have to get back to school.” He says, voice soft in the echoing hallway. The fever from before has diminished, and the sound of loud voices and machinery is present once more. 

“Right,” Dean says, and his voice is rough and Castiel can’t breath, “Sam said you were going to the house tonight.”

“Yeah, we have to be at school early tomorrow so he said I could crash there.”

Dean tilts his head to the side and Castiel wants nothing more than to kiss him. 

“Bella’s supposed to be coming to the apartment to collect some more of her things, so I might see you then.”

“Okay,” He breathes, “We’ll finish this later then?"

“You can count on it.”

Castiel flushes and turns to leave before he can act on any of his ridiculous impulses. As he leaves, he can feel Dean’s eyes on him. 

“So, what the hell was that?” Meg asks as he walks outside, the sun shining and the air too warm on his skin.

Castiel just shakes his head, closing the driver’s side door shut behind him. “It’s nothing.”

//

He, somehow, makes it through the school day. Lunch is the only time he sees Meg throughout the day, so he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to see the knowing look in her eye. The morning’s events have thrown him off his game, and he feels off kilter. Cas is almost sure that Sam knows something’s up, because he keeps shooting him questioning looks in the hallways, and Castiel really doesn’t want to have that conversation right now. Everytime Sam opens his mouth in the hallway, goes to say something with the pinched look in his eye, Castiel mutters some terrible excuse and walks away. 

When the final bell rings, Cas collects his spanish book and exists the classroom before Mark Kenny can pull him back into some ridiculous conversation about empanadas. Unsurprisingly, Sam is longing by Castiel’s locker, his legs stretched out in front of him, a copy of Lord of the Flies in his arms.

“Hey,” Castiel says, knowing there’s no way to get out of this again.

Sam’s smile is easy and brightens the entire hallway. “Hey, man!” comes his friend’s enthusiastic reply, “I’m thinking we can have a movie night tonight? We can order pizza and binge some Marvel movies?”

He remembers telling Dean that he’d be there, and suddenly the need to cancel dissipates. “Yeah Sam, that sounds like fun.” He’s glad that Sam’s seemed to drop the questioning look from before. 

Sam smiles and it's so blindingly breathtaking and handsome, that Castiel can’t breath. He looks at his friend, beautiful and carefree, and follows him outside. 

When they get to Sam’s house, they order two pizzas and camp out on the couch, and start with Captain America: The First Avenger. By the time they finish the pizza and popcorn, they’ve just started Iron Man.

As the opening scene plays, the front door opens. Even in the dim light, he can make out the person immediately. Sam pauses the movie, the screen frozen on a close up of Robert Downey Jr. 

“Hey Dean, didn’t know you were coming over.” Sam says, his voice cheerful and not giving away an ounce of anything but. 

Dean shrugs, the bottom of his shirt riding up just enough to show the bottom of his stomach, “Yeah, uh, Bella shit.”

“Oh, well we’re marathoning Marvel movies if you want to watch with us.”

Dean’s eyes find Castiel’s before they move to the TV screen. “It’s okay, figured I’d finish some paperwork from the shop.”

“Well, if you change your mind, feel free to join us.”

“Thanks Sammy,” Dean says, but his voice sounds like he’s not entirely paying attention. “Good seeing you again, Cas.”

He gives the eldest Winchester a small wave and smiles, “Hey Dean.”

Dean responds with a smile of his own and a nod, before walking past them and into the kitchen. He doesn’t miss the way Sam’s eyebrow raises at the interaction. 

“Didn’t realize you guys were friends.”

Castiel shrugs, tossing a piece of now cold popcorn at his friend, “He was working when I went with Meg to pick up her car. He’s not as bad as I thought.”

Sam’s smile is present, but it’s nowhere near its usual wattage, “See I told you,” He says, bumping his shoulder against Castiel’s, “He was just fucking with you to get a reaction.”

“Yeah,” Castiel replies, looking at the kitchen door that Dean had slipped through, “I’m sure that’s what it was.”

They’re both tired by the time the Incredible Hulk credits roll across the screen, and Sam announces around a yawn that, “Dude I’m tired as shit.”

Castiel laughs, rolling his eyes, and helps collect the trash they’ve accumulated throughout the beginning of their marathon. Once the trash has been thrown away and the dishes are placed in the dishwasher, Castiel’s ready for bed.

As he’s washing his hands in the kitchen sink, Mrs. Winchester slips quietly into the kitchen. “You boys enjoy the marathon?” Her voice is low and rough, proving that she’s been asleep. 

“It was good. Still have a lot to go though.” He answers as he watches her fill a glass with water from the tap. She takes a sip and sits down at the bar. 

“You heading to bed already?”

It’s already twenty past one, and her offhand comment reminds him of something his dad would say. 

“Yeah mom,” Sam answers for the both of them, “We have to be at school thirty minutes early tomorrow.”

“Okay, sleep well then.”

He smiles at her and follows Sam up the stairs. While they change for bed, Sam makes offhand comments about Iron Man, and Castiel laughs at the snarkiness of his tone. Once in his sleep pants and barefoot, he climbs onto the left side of the bed, pulling Sam’s thick comforter up around his neck.

“You know you love RDJ, Sam. Don’t even try to deny it.”

Sam crawls onto the right side of the bed, his feet brushing against Cas’ shin as he tries to get his too long limbs into a comfortable position. Once he’s stopped moving, head propped up on the pillow, he turns and smiles at Cas. 

“You’re right.” He admits, “I do love RDJ. I just think Pepper is too good for him.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, letting out a small snort and shoving Sam with the palm of his hand. “You’re so full of shit.”

He can feel the rumble of Sam’s laughter across the bed and he pulls the comforter tighter around his body. 

“Night Sam.”

“Goodnight Cas.”

And then Sam leans over and turns off the small lamp next to his bed, and the room is pitched into darkness. 

Castiel rolls to face to wall, and waits. 

Once he’s sure Sam’s asleep, Castiel slips from the bed, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and creeping towards the door. He leaves it cracked behind him, knowing that the sound he makes when he returns will be quieter if he doesn’t have to turn Sam’s squeaky damn doorknob. 

He takes the steps one at a time, hand balancing on the railing until he reaches the bottom. His bare feet shuffle across the hardwood flooring and, after double checking to make sure Mrs. Winchester isn’t still in the kitchen, he slides on his converse and slips out the backdoor. 

It’s dark outside, the sun having set long ago, and the stars are visible in the sky. The air is still around him, moderately warm for a spring night, and he pulls the pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. The night is too soothing for him to ruin with light, so he walks in darkness to the edge of the Winchester’s property, where there are a few patio chairs that surround a fire pit. As he rounds closer, to his surprise, Castiel sees the flicker of flames in the pit. They draw him in, the night warm but the fire warmer. It’s not until he sits down in the chair farthest from the house, far away from John and Mary’s bedroom window, that he notices he’s not alone. 

In the chair across from him is the eldest Winchester. He looks beautiful, as best as Castiel can see him in the almost darkness, but the light from the crescent moon above shines down upon him, falling across the crooked bridge of his nose and the soft pout of his lips. There’s a cigarette hanging between his teeth, the end lit and burning a deep crimson. 

Castiel says nothing, after this morning he’s content to sit in the silence and smoke. A long cigarette is pulled from his pack, and his hand shakes as he flicks his lighter twice. Leaning forward, cupping his free hand around the end, he holds the wavering flame just under the end of the cigarette, watching as the flame crackles and spreads, lighting the end with it’s orange glow. 

When he looks up, the taste of smoke filling his mouth, he finds Dean’s eyes on him. The flame from the fire pit reflects off the pupil of his eyes, making him look almost malicious. Goosebumps break out across the length of his arms, and he contemplates putting his jacket on.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” Dean says, his words partially muffled by the cigarette between his lips. 

Dean speaking surprises him, but the words do not. He knew from the moment he saw Dean’s face after Meg caught them, that an apology was bound to come his way. He had looked so guilty, like he had taken something that didn’t belong to him. Castiel’s seen that look more times than he can count, mostly on Gabriel’s face when he was caught doing something bad, and seeing the look on Dean’s face caused his stomach to drop. He has the same look on his face right now, like he had done something so unreporachfally horrific that his entire family would cast him into the depths of hell. 

Castiel would like to think that kissing him isn’t that big of a deal. 

“What exactly are you apologizing for?”

He watches Dean ash his cigarette, long fingers curved around the filter, and as his eyes adjust to the dark, he sees embers of burnt ash fall around them onto the ground.

Dean shrugs, running the hand that doesn’t hold his cigarette through his hair as his eyes look anywhere but at Cas. “I don’t know, man, everything I guess.”

Hearing Dean say that makes him want to scream. He’s already confused enough for the both of them, the last thing he needs is Dean somehow twisting their weird connection and making it something worse, making it something that warrants an apology. 

“I see.” He says, keeping his voice as dry and monotone as he can. He doesn’t know why the thought of Dean regretting things between them hurts so bad, but it does. In his chest there is a tight and dull ache. He’s almost used to the feeling at this point, it’s to be expected after hiding your true feelings from your closest confidant, but he’d never expected to feel this way because of something Dean said. Castiel takes a long drag from the cigarette perched between his fingers and lets the ache in his heart be replaced by the ache in his lungs. 

By the time he blows it out, and Dean hasn’t responded, Castiel figures that’s it for the conversation. He, of course, assumed too soon. 

“Don’t take the apology as something it’s not, Cas.” Dean says, and his voice is almost pleading. Being stubborn, Castiel refuses to meet his eye as he continues, “I’m just- You’re in love with Sam.”

He says it like it’s the answer to all of Cas’ questions. 

“I’m aware.” He keeps his reply short, still not meeting Dean’s eye. 

“You’re in love with Sam, and we’re friends now, Cas, and I’m trying to draw some boundaries but there’s not really a rule book for this kind of thing.”

“It doesn’t mean anything, Dean.” Castiel says, “You’re just helping a friend practice. There’s nothing else to it.”

Even in the low light, he can see the way Dean seems to flinch at his words. 

“Yeah,” Dean replies, and Cas watches his long fingers tap on the filter of his cigarette. 

He knows that Dean knows that. And he knows that Dean has no ulterior motive here, knows he’s just being a decent guy and indulging Castiel in an effort to help him with Sam. But he also knows how heavy guilt follows the eldest Winchester, remembers stories that Sam has told him about the regret and guilt that weighs so heavily on his brother at times. 

“Dean,” Castiel says, finally letting his eyes find Dean’s, “You have no reason to feel guilty. Sam will never find out, you’re not betraying him. You’re just doing me a favor.”

He watches as Dean smashes his cigarette out on the concrete beneath them, and even though he still has half his cigarette left, Castiel follows suit. 

He follows Dean back inside, no words being traded between of them, and Castiel assumes Dean must be in a melancholy mood, one that matches his own. As the round the top of the stairs, and before Dean can turn towards his old bedroom, Castiel reaches out and stops him. 

When Dean turns to look at him, there are so many conflicting emotions present in his eyes, but they’re replaced by his usual expression a second later. 

“Don’t be mad at me.” Castiel says, his fingers burning where they rest on Dean’s wrist.

The eldest Winchester turns to face him fully, his smile soft but not even attempting to reach his eyes. He looks older like this, his eyes sad like he’s seen a million years of suffering. He still look so beautiful, and Castiel can’t help but take a step closer and run his thumb along the soft crow’s feet that line the corner of his eye. 

Dean’s eyes shine in the low lighting, and they run over Cas’ face, like he’s documenting every imperfection with the softness of his gaze. He looks longing, like he’s longing for some other unrequited love, and like Castiel is the representation of all he wants. He doesn’t take it personal, knows without a doubt that his friendship with Dean is permanently fixed as ‘friends only’ but he can’t help but wonder what Dean’s looking for in the contours of his face. He wonders if Dean sees what he misses in the lines and scars of Cas’ skin. He thinks that this thing between them is beneficial on two parts. Castiel gets experience, and Dean gets to pretend that Castiel is whoever his heart is obviously chasing. 

Before he can change his mind, Castiel takes another step forward, making the space between their bodies almost nonexistent. His free hand comes up to rest on the outer part of Dean’s bicep, as his other hand continues stroking the soft lines that sit along his skin. He watches Dean close his eyes and listens to the unsteadiness of the other man’s breath. A hand comes to rest on the side of Castiel’s neck, soft and stroking, a comforting embrace. 

It’s insane for them to be doing this less than ten feet away from where Sam’s sleeping. It’s risky, disastrous even, but Castiel can’t bring himself to pull away.

Before he can lose his nerve, Castiel pulls Dean into a hug. It’s gentle at first, reflecting their soft touches from before, but when Dean’s hands come up to pull him closer, Castiel grips the leather of Dean’s jacket in his fists. 

He has yet to fully morn the feeling of his unrequited crush on Sam, and as he stands there, Dean pressed to the front of his body, Castiel feels the force of it in its entirely. The overwhelming feelings of longing, pain, and fear crash into him, the hole in his chest opening up and threatening to consume him whole. He takes a shaky breath, letting the melancholy invade his heart and chest, filling him with nothing but longing and need, and the knowledge that he’ll probably never have it. The endless void envelopes him, threatening to overtake him completely, but the feeling of Dean hugging him back, of knowing that he’s not alone in the terrible need of having, makes him feel a little less alone. 

He tightens his grip on Dean, the smell of cigarette smoke and ash filling his head, and takes a deep breath.   
  



	7. Friday, April 19th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain in the ass! I honestly never thought I'd finish it, but alas, here it is. 
> 
> The long time coming date night. The next chapter's going to be a whole ass ride, just you wait. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your thoughts. 
> 
> Also just a shameless plug here: I recently posted a new Destiel fic called "Bartender (I really did it this time) you should definitly check it out!!

The rest of the week flies by too fast for Castiel. He goes to class, sees Sam, smokes with Meg, and gets annoyed by Anna and Gabriel in a stream of monotonous bullshit that has him sitting in his bed and staring at the ceiling, wondering why the fuck he even bothers. Life seems so meaningless, so stupid and boring, and he’s only eighteen. It just feels like everything’s downhill from here.

His phone buzzes from where it lies on his chest. A sigh escapes his lips, causing his chest to dip and his phone to slide off onto the comforter. He looks at the screen, a small grin forming on his lips as he reads it.

Dean (5:43PM): We still on for tonight?

He had been anxiously fretting over their dinner not-date throughout the week, and his worrying only seemed to speed up the clock.

To Dean (5:44 PM): Yes! You driving?

Considering their heartfelt chick flick moment on Tuesday, Castiel was a little surprised that Dean still seemed interesting in going out, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Dean (5:44PM): Is that even a question? Pick you up at 730

Which gives him less than two hours to get dressed and finish panicking. He pops the knuckles in his hand, somehow dragging himself out of bed and into the bathroom. Cas takes a quick shower, letting the hot spray relax some of the tension in his shoulders, and tries his best to not think about Dean. It’s hard though, he can’t get that forlorn expression that Dean had Tuesday out of his head. He had looked so sad, so torn, that Castiel wants nothing more than to bring it up. He doesn’t know if they’re quite there yet. They speak about Sam and Cas’ feelings for him, and sometimes even talk about Bella, but surely if Dean was in love and pining after someone, he’d bring it up with Castiel first. He just doesn’t know if it’s his place to mention it before Dean does.

Convinced that he’s definitely not going to bring it up, Castiel climbs out of the shower, watching the steam scatter as he stares at his fogged expression in the mirror. Sighing, he wipes the mirror with the back of his hand and rolls his eyes. He’s being ridiculous. Once again, he’s overthinking literally everything about the situation, and from his experience, he knows it leads to nothing but trouble.

He leaves the bathroom before he can punch the mirror or something equally stupid, and quickly changes into a nice - but not too nice - outfit. It’s a pair of nice light wash jeans and a blue button-down shirt that Anna says brings out the color of his eyes. He still thinks she was smoking some serious pot when she said that.

He runs a comb through his unmanageable hair and prays it dries somewhat decently. By the time he’s finished with his grooming, it’s only 6:45, so he resigns himself to spending the 45 minutes in excruciating agony. He’s about to say fuck it and climb onto the roof for a smoke, when his laptop starts pinging insistently.

He glances at the screen, surprised when he sees who’s face timing him. Before it can stop ringing, he clicks the accept button and watches as the screen loads. A second later, his friend is thrust into the camera, her face way too close to the screen.

Anael looks just the same as the day he last saw her, her red hair tied into a messy bun on the top of her head, smile too wide for the camera screen.

“Cas! Hey I didn’t know if you’d answer.” She says, the screen lagging for a moment, before her lips begin moving in sync. She must roll onto her side, because a moment later her head is resting in her hand and her head is tilted sideways.

“Of course I’d answer, Anael Jo.” He says, returning her smile easily, “How’s school?”

“It’s okay, miss you guys though.”

“We miss you too, Jo.” Castiel replies honestly, “It’s been awhile since we’ve talked.”

“I know, I’m the worst friend alive. It’s been months.” She says, adding emphasis to the last word, showing her obvious frustration with herself.

Castiel moves to get more comfortable on his bed, tucking his feet behind him, “Jo, you moved schools more than halfway through your senior year, I think it’s natural to need some time to adjust.”

“I know, I know, but it doesn’t make me feel any less shitty.” She replies, “So, come on, hit me with all the gossip. Surely there’s been some tea since I left.”

“Well lets see, Sam got that internship he was working towards, Meg’s good. She hooked up with Mary Smeltzer during Spring formal. Balthazar got suspended for cussing Mr. Smith out for suggesting we watch the Titanic. And, well, I’m still the same as when you left.”

“Same as in the same amazing Castiel I knew, or Sam as in pining ridiculously over Sam?”

He forgot she had that secondary sense. “I’m not in love with Sam.”

Still, to this day, he’s only ever admitted it to two people.

“Whatever you say, Cas.” Anael replies flippantly, “I love Sam, but I just think you could do better.”

He hesitates. On one hand, he is dying to tell someone about Dean, but on the other hand, he’s worried she’ll read into it, like she does with everything. Eventually the need to gossip gives way, and he decides that, even if she does read into it, she’s too far away to tell Dean whatever ridiculous notion she gets into her head.

“Okay, well I do have something to tell you.”

She blinks at the screen, eyes narrowing, “Spill it, lover boy.”

He takes a deep breath, blowing it out and wishing he had a cigarette right about now. After a second, when it becomes clear that he can’t backtrack his way out of this, Castiel relents.

“I had my first kiss.”

Anael’s jaw falls open as her eyes go wide and she pulls the camera even closer to her face. “You what?” She asks, lips curved around glimmeringly white teeth as her enthusiasm is on full display.

He nods, lips twitching into a small smile despite himself, “I did.”

“Don’t leave a girl hanging! Who the hell was it?"

He bites his lip, looking at her face in the screen, “You have to swear to God you won’t tell a soul. I mean not even Meg or Sam, well, especially not Sam.”

Her eyebrows screw up in confusion, obviously wondering why he hasn’t told his closest friends about such an important moment yet, “Yeah, of course, my lips are sealed.”

“It was, uh, with Dean Winchester.” He whispers the last part.

“Who?” She asks, eyes crinkling as she stares at the screen.

“Dean Winchester,” Again, it’s a whisper.

“Dude, speak up I can’t hear a damn thing. Who was it?”

“Dean Winchester!” He all but yells, surprised he didn’t just alert the entire neighborhood.

Anael’s face is frozen, and for a second he thinks the screen is lagging, but then she blinks. Once, twice, her face remains the same, showing absolutely no expression except confusion, and then:

“I’m sorry,” She says, “I thought you just said Dean Winchester.”

He swallows around his already dry throat and nods, “I did say that.”

“Oh. My. God,” She says slowly, and then her already huge smile, somehow, grows. “You son of a bitch! You did not!”

Relieved by her words, the tension in his shoulders escapes fractionally, “I did.”

“You lucky asshole! What the hell? I was trying to pounce on that for months before I left, and as soon as I’m gone you just plant one on him? How in the hell did this happen? I need details.”

He shrugs into the camera, “I mean its nothing, really. He caught me looking at some embarrassing stuff online-”

“Porn?”

“No not porn,” Castiel says with a sigh, “I was just looking to see if it was weird that I was 18 and hadn’t had my first kiss, and he caught me. He gave me some advice, said I should just pick someone and have them kiss me, or even have them teach me. It got me thinking and later that day I asked if he would kiss me, and he said yes.”

“Damn,” Anael says with a low whistle, “How was it?”

“It was kind of incredible. He’s a really good kisser. We kissed again the next day when I went over to Sam’s.” Castiel explains, “And then we went to Sam’s soccer game together and I kissed him again in the car after, I don’t even know why I did it, I just did.”

“Oh honey,” She says softly.

“And then he picked me up Saturday, and we drove around for a while and went to this little spot he found and just sat and talked, which was nice. And we’ve been texting a lot since then, and I haven’t told anyone and I just need to get it off my chest.” Castiel says, “Because he’s not at all like I expected, you know? He’s sweet when he wants to be and so damn charming. And he’s hot too, you know, but I already knew that part. But he’s just so much more than I expected, and I like being his friend but I’m worried it’s just going to make everything more complicated.”

Anael’s looking at him, a small curve to her lips as she stares into the phone screen.

“Sweetheart, you have to know what I’m going to say.”

Castiel rolls his shoulders, prepared to hear what he already knows, “I can’t be friends with Dean because I like Sam and it’s a conflict of interest?”

“No, Cas. You can’t be friends with Dean because you’re in love with him.”

He looks back at her, face contorted with confusion, “I’m sorry what?”

“Okay, maybe not love, but your feelings are a hell of a lot more than platonic.”

“You’re crazy, Jo,” Castiel says, “I’m in love with Sam.”

“And that definitely explains why you’ve mentioned him twice in this conversation, as opposed to the sonnet you just wrote about Dean.”

“I just, uh, no I like Sam-”

“And I totally don’t think you’re alone in your feelings either. I mean, I guess it makes sense, Dean’s always been softly pining after someone, I just could never figure out who. You know that’s why he broke up with Bella, right? Said he had feelings for someone else, someone he said was ‘unobtainable’. And the way you say he opens up to you? That’s some not classic Dean Winchester shit right there. He’s usually as closed off as Chick-fil-a on a Sunday.”

“Jo, I love you, but you’re full of shit. We’re honestly just friends, there’s nothing non platonic about it at all.”

She smiles knowingly, “Yeah, except for the whole kissing thing.”

And he doesn’t really have a response to that. Since the beginning, he’s never quite been able to figure out why Dean would bother kissing him in the first place. He had thought that maybe it was just Dean feeling sorry for him and being nice, but kissing the guy who’s in love with your brother seems a little more than friendly camaraderie.

“I just, I can’t make this anymore complicated than it already is, Jo.”

“I get that, Cas.” She says, her voice full of conviction, “But I don’t want to watch you let something amazing fly by because you’re too caught up in a dream.”

“A dream?”

“You’ve loved Sam for a long time. I sat by and watched you pine after him for years, watched you slowly fall in love with him more and more each day. But that’s the thing about unrequited love, you don’t have the actual thing to share your love with, so you start sharing it with your daydreams of him. You start loving the Sam you’ve built up in your head, and less the actual Sam you know.” Anael tells him, “I’m not saying you don’t love Sam, because I think you do, but I don’t think you’re in love with him. I think you’re in love with the dream of Sam you’ve cooked up in that beautiful little head of yours.”

It’s been so long since anyone’s been so real with him, that her words hurt. That ever present ache in his chest grows tenfold, too wide and consuming for him to get near.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

The smile she gives him is sad, “You don’t have to say anything, Cas. Just think about it and promise me you won’t rule Dean out just yet. You deserve so much happiness, babe, and I sometimes I wonder if Sam is enough to give it to you.”

“Sam’s perfect,” He replies automatically, and her frown deepens.

“I know you think that.” Anael says, “But he’s not. He’s the same as the rest of us. Beautiful and full of flaws. Once you accept that, I think you’ll finally realize what I mean.”

The clock on his bedside table reads 7:23PM, so he knows it’s about time to wrap up this conversation.

“Listen Anael, I have to get going, but it was nice catching up with you.” Castiel starts.

“Cas, please don’t be mad at me.” Anael says, “I’m not trying to burst the picture in your head, I just hate watching you be miserable over this.”

He gives her a smile he doesn’t really feel and shrugs off her concern, “I could never be mad at you, and besides, it’s been too long since someone set me straight. I think you just told me what I needed to hear.”

“Okay good,” She says with a small smile, “Have a good night, promise me you’ll call soon.”

“I will,” He says, and he means it, “Bye Jo.”

She says goodbye and Castiel hangs up. He sits back on his bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying her words. Maybe she’s right. Not about the Dean part, because that’s honestly the most insane thing he’s ever heard, but the Sam part. He has spent the better part of 3 years actively pining for someone who didn’t have the slightest clue and he knows he’s built up this idea of Sam in his head. But it’s still so hard to comprehend, the idea that he might not be in love with Sam. He feels like he is, feels it in every pump of his heart and contraction of his lungs.

Maybe she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

It’s when he’s mulling over her words that his phone chimes twice next to him. His bedroom is still cast in soft light from his open MacBook, and he sees Dean’s name on his screen, the stupid smiley face by his contact name taunting him.

Dean (7:28PM): I’m here

Dean (7:28PM): Get your ass out here, I’m starving

Castiel rubs the back of his neck and sighs. He reminds himself that Anael is 4 counties away, and that there’s not a single way she could understand what Castiel is feeling. She’s not around to see the way he talks to Sam, the way he fawns over him, the way he’s still - after all these years - stuck on him. With that thought in mind, he pockets his phone and heads downstairs.

As he steps outside onto the porch, the first thing he notices is the wind. It’s picked up significantly since he got home from school, and he can tell by the way it blows that it’s going to rain soon.

The Impala sits in his driveway, headlights blinding and Jimmy Page’s guitar bleeding through the metal. He thinks that the Impala looks oddly perfect in his driveway, sitting with pride of place like she belongs there. After his conversation with Anael, Castiel doesn’t let that thought linger very long.

The passenger door opens with the telltale squeak, and Castiel drops down into the seat. He watches Dean lean forward to turn the volume down just slightly and sees the familiar glint of Dean’s smile in the dark.

“Hey,”

Castiel returns his smile easily, deciding to forget about Anael’s words for the time being and focus on just having a good night with Dean. And considering how easily his personality seems to mash with Dean’s, he knows they’re already in for a good time.

“Hey yourself,” He replies, fastening his seatbelt across his chest, “You ready for the best Italian Kansas has to offer?”

Dean’s smile is unyielding, “Always,”

And then Baby peels out of Castiel’s driveway, and Zeppelin gets turned up to ten.

He doesn’t notice how good Dean looks until they exit Baby at St. Monicarta’s. Dean’s still casual, but he’s swapped his usual t-shirt for a white henley and a black leather jacket. He’s got skin-tight jeans on that show off his bow legs and Cas may or may not let his eyes linger on the swell of his ass for a second before they enter the restaurant.

“How can I help you, sir?” The hostess asks, her eyes appraising Dean openly. Bile rises his Castiel’s throat at the sight, and he squashes it down as soon as he feels it.

“Reservation for Winchester.”

Castiel follows after Dean and the hostess, secretly pleased that Dean hadn’t seemed the least bit interested in her. And between the fluttering of her eyelashes and the way she twirled a long strand of red hair around her finger, she was laying it on pretty damn thick.

He slides into the booth across from Dean, watching as the hostess sits down two menus and leans, a little too obviously, across the table to point out a dish on Dean’s menu, giving him ample opportunity to look down her shirt. His gaze stays firmly planted on the pictures she’s pointing to, though, and Castiel can’t help the small smile that spreads across his face.

She takes their drink orders and disappears, her flirty smile replaced by a frown.

“I think the only way she could have been more obvious was if she dropped her skirt right here and asked you to have sex with her,” Castiel says over his menu, hiding his annoyance behind a pleased smile.

“Huh?”

Castiel blinks, “She was flirting with you, like a lot. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice?”

“Nah man,” Dean replies, rubbing the bridge of his nose as his eyes scan the menu, “Guess I didn’t.”

“I don’t know how you couldn’t,” Cas says, “You should’ve flirted back. She seemed plenty into you.”

“Guess I’m just not interested.”

And that gets his attention more than anything else. He’s had an inkling that Dean’s been pinning for someone since Tuesday, and there’s no bigger sign than disinterest in other people. Hell, Castiel’s infatuation with Sam is a textbook example. He’s had a fair share of possible suitors, but no one can compare to Sam. It’s like comparing a human to a God. Impossible and pointless.

Castiel bites his lip, thinking. Dean’s his friend, so Castiel’s curiosity isn’t completely misplaced, but he doesn’t know if they’re close enough for him to bring it up. Going out on a limb, he decides to give Dean the benefit of the doubt, and trust that if he wants to talk about something, he will.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Castiel starts out, and Dean looks up from his menu with a raised eyebrow and interest in his eyes.

“And what’s that, Cas?”

He decides to play it safe, “Sam might have mentioned that he thought you had your eye on someone.”

Dean visibly tenses in his seat, and Cas barely holds back a wince.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me or anything.” He hurries to add, backpedaling a little.

“There’s no one, Cas.”

Based on the physical response Dean unknowingly gave, Cas sincerely doubts he’s telling the truth, but he knows better than to continuously prod. “Okay, well, I just wanted you to know - if you did - you could talk to me. Hell, all I ever do is rant on and on about Sam. It would be nice to focus on someone else’s love life for once.”

He sees Dean deflate a fraction, and the older man offers him a smile, “Thanks, but there really isn’t anyone. At least no one worth mentioning.”

So there definitely is someone then.

Before he can do something stupid and push the issue, the waitress interrupts, introducing herself and bringing them their drinks, before asking if they’ve decided on their dinner yet.

“I’ll have the angel hair pasta with shrimp and basil.”

Dean sends a smirk across the table, “Scallop carbonara.”

She sends them a smile and nods, jotting down quick notes on her pad before leaving them alone.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Castiel asks, raising an eyebrow at the smirk that’s seared onto Dean’s lips.

“Angel hair pasta for the man named after an angel.”

“You used to give me so much shit for being named after an angel.”

Dean shrugs, “It was definitely jealousy. I’m named Dean, like Dean fucking Norris, and you’re named after an Angel of Thursday.”

“If it makes you feel any better, all my siblings are named after angels.”

Dean smirk falters just a little, before he nudges Castiel under the table, “Thanks, asshole. That really doesn’t help.”

Castiel laughs, watches Dean’s eyes follow the line of his lips as they curve into a grin, and nudges him back under the table.

And if their feet end up intertwined, and neither of them bother moving them, well that’s nobody’s business but their own.

The rest of dinner flows too quickly for Cas, but like every other time he’s hung out with Dean, it’s enjoyable. Hell, it’s more than enjoyable. They laugh over Dean’s ridiculous jokes, maintain a freakish amount of eye contact, and every time Cas says something, Dean listens like it’s gospel.

Cas would say he has good friends. He has Meg, who is consistently on his side. She sticks up for him, even when the battle is only in his head, and shows her love in sarcastic remarks and commentary. He has Sam, who is the epitome of good friends. He does nothing but support Castiel in all he does, keeps him company, lets him complain about his family, buys his food when he forgets his wallet. Cas even has Balthazar and Anael, who are special in their own type of ways.

But Castiel can say that none of them make him feel anything like the way Dean does. Dean makes him feel like he’s the most important person in the room. Like everything that comes out of his mouth is never stupid or random, but of the utmost important. He listens intently, asks questions and makes little noises to let Castiel know he understands.

It’s strange, that he’s developed such a close friendship - such a unique friendship - in such a short amount of time, but it’s nice and it’s new, and Castiel is thankful for it.

He’s been eyeing the last scallop on Dean’s plate for a couple of minutes, when Dean pauses in his story about Zeke from the shop. Although he hadn’t been paying one hundred percent attention, the sudden lack of Dean’s tenor pulls his attention.

When he looks up, he finds Dean already looking back at him.

“What?” Castiel asks, somewhat guilty for having praised Dean on his listening skills while barely listening himself.

“You want the scallop?”

“What? No, it’s your last one.” He says, although it’s a lie. He just wants a taste, wants the buttery sauce to burst over his tongue. But he’s not going to be that kind of friend.

He watches as Dean stabs the scallop with his fork and holds it up pointed across the table at Castiel’s face.

“Dean,”

“Cas, I want you to have it.”

“You were literally just talking about how much you hate sharing your food.”

He sees Dean flush a little, although it’s probably just the bright overhead lights. “Well, maybe you’re the exception.”

And that hits him right in the gut. He doesn’t know if Dean actually means or, or if maybe he’s just pitying the longing glances Cas keeps sending his way. But if Dean’s serious, if Cas really is an exception to some of the ridiculous rules and walls he builds up around himself, then it’s a first for him.

Cas has never been the exception. Not with his family, not with his friends, not even with Sam. He has always just been another sibling, another son, another friend.

But with Dean. He might just be the exception, and that’s something that rings a little too close to Anael’s conversation for Cas to be comfortable with.

Instead of thinking about it anymore than he wants to, Castiel looks at the scallop almost dripping in butter, and leans forward to close his mouth around the end of Dean’s fork. It’s almost obscene, the noise he makes. It’s a mix between a groan and a moan, and the food tastes so damn good that he can’t even be bothered to be embarrassed. As he’s chewing the food, he watches - with rapt attention - the way Dean shifts in his seat. Cas can see the way he swallows, the way his throat works in a way that’s almost pornographic.

Castiel watches as he swallows, the scallops somehow going down rougher than he expected. He watches the glint of butter on Dean’s bottom lip and takes a long gulp from his drink. Damn it. Maybe Anael wasn’t being as crazy as he thought.

Dean picks up the bill with ease, and when Castiel gives him a knowing expression, the older man smiles.

“I owe you, remember?” Dean tells him as they leave the restaurant, the sun long since passed below the horizon. It’s chilly, and he pulls at the sleeves of his shirt.

“Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

Once in the warmth embrace of the Impala, Dean turns to him. For a second, Castiel is worried that he’s expecting something out of this not date. However, that worry turns to excitement a moment later. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he might like it if Dean made a move.

His excitement dissipates when Dean only smiles at him and asks, “So, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Nothing that I know of, why?”

“Well, I work until ten, but there’s a party after at Ruby Belford’s. She was in my graduating class. I wasn’t going to go, but it might be fun if I had some company.”

Showing up to a party with Dean Winchester on his arm? Well, the kids at school would be talking about that for ages to come.

“Can Sam come too?” He asks, figures if Sam’s there it will keep him from doing something stupid.

“Sure, I just thought I’d see if you wanted to go before I asked him.”

He thinks about it for a moment. Meg was just telling him that he needs to live more. Needs to do more things that make his chest sore and blood rush. And going to a college party with Dean Winchester? Well, that definitely makes the list.

“Yeah, I’ll go with you.” Castiel says, reluctance morphing into excitement, “It sounds like fun.”

Dean’s smile is almost a smirk, content and relaxed and the thought that Castiel was the one that put it there fills his chest with happiness.

“Great.”

Dean puts Baby in drive and pulls out of the parking lot.

When they get back to Castiel’s house and Dean pulls just inside the driveway, Cas opens the door before he can say something stupid or kiss Dean. To his surprise, Dean’s door opens too and a moment later there’s the sound of footsteps walking beside him. He gives Dean a questioning look, but the other man just shrugs.

“Thought I’d be a gentleman. Walk you to the door and everything.”

“Thanks Dean,” He says, only a little sarcastically, which only makes Dean grin wider.

The walk is shorter than Cas wishes, and when they get to his front door, he stops to look at Dean. Not expectantly, but just to observe him. He doesn’t think this is a date, but he thinks that it could have been. If Cas wasn’t so gone on Sam, and Dean wasn’t struggling with his own shit, they might actually be able to make something out of this.

“Thank you for tonight.” Cas starts softly, and Dean looks up under inky lashes at him.

“Of course. I hope you had a good time.”

“I did, truly.” Cas says, quickly, not wanting Dean to think he had anything other than the best time imaginable.

“Well, I’m glad.” Dean says almost timidly, “I had a good time too.”

They are standing so damn close. Castiel can smell the woodsy undercurrent of Dean’s cologne and the smell of Italian from the restaurant that seems to cling to their skin and clothes. Cas wants nothing more than to lean forward and bring their lips together, to solidify this as something more than just a friendly outing, to solidify this as something close to a date.

He’s scared though. He doesn’t know if he actually likes Dean, or if it’s just the words of his friends playing tricks with his mind. Cas doesn’t want to ruin their friendship - because he seriously doubts Dean feels the same way - and he really doesn’t want to ruin it if he isn’t sure what he feels is anything more than platonic fondness.

“Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I will.”

Castiel decides to compromise. He leans forward, dropping a chaste kiss onto Dean’s cheek. Maybe it’s the light, or maybe it’s his own projecting, but he thinks Dean’s breath might have hitched.

When he pulls away, Dean’s eyes look darker, but there’s not enough light to be sure. And once again, he’s a master at projecting.

“Goodnight Dean,”

The older man smiles and shoves his hands into his pockets, “Goodnight Cas.”

And then Castiel slips inside the door and shuts it without looking back. He stands there with his forehead pressed against the door until he hears the sound of the Impala pull away.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dean's henley](https://hells-half-acre.livejournal.com/440408.html)
> 
> Damn he looks good.


	8. Saturday, April 20th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So question time! This work was inspired by a shorter work of mine and I was wondering if y'all might be interested in reading that one? It's vaugely simmilar, but there are quite a few different events that happen. idk just let me know i guess if you're interested lol
> 
> Also,,, whewww this chapter's a doozy. About twice as long as the other ones and packed with drunken feels. 
> 
> lmk what you think?
> 
> (Also I went through this and edited really quick so idek if it makes any sense HA. feel free to point out typos or whatever)

He gets to Sam’s house a little after ten. Mr. and Mrs. Winchester are out on their weekly date night, so Castiel doesn’t bother knocking, just opens the door and steps inside. The television is playing some old cartoon he doesn’t recognize, and the stereo in the dining room is at full volume, filling the house with a cacophony of noise. Castiel walks into the kitchen, finding Sam sitting at the counter with a bottle of jager in front of him.

“Starting already, are we?”

Sam looks over his shoulder, smile spreading across his face as Castiel grabs a seat next to him. He pushes the bottle towards Castiel, who glares at the offending liquid. He isn’t a big drinker, but he knows what he likes and jager doesn’t make the list.

“I’ve already done like four shots. You’ve got to catch up.”

“Remind me why we’re pre-gaming again. Dean said they were going to have a keg.”

Sam rolls his eyes like Castiel is missing some big picture. “First of all, keg beer is like ninety percent foam. Secondly, I want to be buzzed before we get there. Third, keg beer is almost impossible to get drunk off. So,” He pats the counter. “Drink up.”

He looks hesitantly at the bottle, before relenting and pouring a decent amount into the bottom of the glass cup sitting in front of Sam. It looks like black licorice, offending and gross against the clean cut of the Winchester’s pale countertop.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Castiel tips the cup up, draining the liquid into his mouth. As it first hits his tongue, he gags, wishing he had just dumped it down his throat instead of letting it touch his taste buds. It burns harshly as he swallows, and his eyes burn with the sting of it.

“Fuck,” Castiel curses. “That tastes like absolute shit.”

“It does, but a few more of those and you’ll be buzzing.”

Cas looks at the bottle again and sighs. Cheers to letting loose and shit.

When Dean walks in around thirty minutes later, Castiel can admit he’s feeling it. He’s on the couch next to Sam, who’s laying upside down with his feet over the back of the couch, and they’re discussing the complexities of symbolism in popular culture. Cas thinks that neither of them are really making any sense, and they keep stopping every couple of seconds to laugh about something stupid.

“Looks like you started without me,” Dean says as soon as he enters the living room. He looks good, freshly showered with tight pants and an equally tight black flannel.

“Had to pregame,” Castiel says, although his words come out much more slurred than he had hoped. Dean sends an amused grin in his direction before smacking Sam’s foot and motioning to the door.

“Let’s go,” He says, “Keg just got dropped off.”

Castiel reluctantly stands, following the Winchester brother’s out the front door. He’s honestly looking forward to tonight. He’s always been hesitant to party, mostly because the idea of getting in trouble is terrifying, but Dean had promised to take care of him and keep him out of trouble. So they were going to go to Ruby’s, have a good time, and then crash at Dean’s apartment. He’s so excited he’s practically bubbling over with enthusiasm, and if anyone asks, it has nothing to do with finally getting to see Dean’s place.

It only takes them about fifteen minutes to get to Ruby’s house, and Castiel sits relaxed in the back, listening to whatever Zeppelin album Dean has pouring through the speakers. He keeps meeting the older Winchester’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and he flushes and looks away every time. It’s another reason he doesn’t drink, all his subtlety seems to vanish and he’s left being the most obviously pathetic person in the universe.

As they round the corner nearest Ruby’s house, Castiel can already hear the pounding of the music. The black gated fence that surrounds the house is pulled open to allow guests to drive in. Dean pulls in, parking the impala by the garage and turning it off. Castiel whistles his appreciation from the backseat, taking in the sight of Ruby’s house from the window. It’s a white McMansion, with large shrubs adorning the front lawn, and four strong floor to ceiling columns that line the front of the house. It looks like the stereotypical ‘mean girls’ house, and Castiel snorts at how accurate that assumption is. He doesn’t personally know Ruby; they’ve never even met, but he’s heard plenty of rumors.

He climbs out of the car, only half listening as Dean pulls out a bag from the trunk and shoves it in his direction.

“What’s this?” He asks, feeling the heaviness of the bag. Dean pulls out two six packs of beer, handing one to Sam before he shrugs.

“Just call it a gift.”

“Thanks Dean, ” He says, watching as Sam walks ahead of them following a girl inside of the house. The shots from earlier are finally starting to kick in and Castiel eyes a small white bench that overlooks the gardens that grow along the house. It seems like the perfect place to stop and sit while he smokes a much-needed cigarette.

His feet stumble a little as he walks, the alcohol immediately having gone to his head as the fresh air kicked in. Cas drops down onto the bench, grateful for the way the world stops spinning so insanely. A moment later, just as he’s pulling a cigarette from his pack, Dean drops down next to him. Without waiting for him to ask, Castiel sticks a cigarette in his direction. The smile on Dean’s face is soft as he lights the cigarette. He places the lit cigarette between his teeth, cracking open his Coors Banquet with his left hand before motioning to the bag in Cas’ hands.

He peeks in the bag Dean had handed him and sees a dark red liquid inside a plastic bottle. The label reads McGillicuddy’s.

“What is it?”

“Cherry McGillicuddy’s.” Dean says, “I know you’re not a big drinker, so I thought this might be more up your alley. It’s the first thing Sam got drunk off, before he decided he’s a beer guy. It’s sweet but has a decent alcohol content.”

Dean’s manages to say all this without sounding the least bit condescending, and Castiel is touched by his thoughtfulness. “Thank you, Dean.”

“It’s no problem, Cas.”

They sit in relative silence as they finish the last of their cigarettes, and once Cas’ is burned to the filter, he drops it onto the plastic-like grass beneath his shoe.

“You ready for this?” Dean asks as they stand from the bench.

If he was with anyone else, he’d say no. But there’s something about being at this party with Dean Winchester of all people, that sets his mind at ease. Dean’s a God at parties like this, and he’s here with Castiel.

“Yeah,” He says, “Lead the way.”

Sam finds him almost as soon as he enters the house, giving him a confused glance from the side of his eye, one that only narrows when Dean half stumbles in after him, looking a little too smug for his own good. Castiel just shrugs and opens the bottle of cherry McGillicuddy’s that Dean had bought him and takes a large swig. It’s not as awful as he expected. The taste is very similar to the cherry flavoring that the gas station closest to his house has, and there’s only a slight tang of alcohol in the aftertaste. It is, however, ridiculously better than the repugnant beer that Sam’s drinking like water.

He doesn’t know many of the people at the party, which isn’t entirely surprising, but a couple he recognizes are in his class and a few more he remembers from their time at his high school. It’s as he’s rounding the corner nearest the door that he sees a flash of blonde. A second later, a girl is barreling at him and all but throws herself into his arms.

“Meg,” He laughs as he hugs her back.

“What the absolute hell?” She says, “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’ve spent years trying to get you to come, and yet all it takes is the Winchesters asking and you’re down to party.”

He smiles at the sarcasm in her tone, “I decided to come because you kept nagging me, besides, I didn’t know you were going to be here either.”

She rolls her eyes but flashes him a grin, “Come on, we can talk while you dance with me.”

The alcohol in his body makes this seem like the greatest idea anyone’s ever had, and he takes Meg’s extended hand and allows her to pull him into the living room. The music is deafening and he’s convinced the floor shakes with the intensity of the volume.

She wraps a hand around his waist, pulling him close to her as they move slowly - at first - to the music. It’s some obscure rap song that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s catchy and he easily finds a rhythm. Meg turns her back to him, pushing out her scantily clad ass as she rolls her body. He copies her movement, no doubt looking ridiculous, with his hands above his head as he all but grinds against his best friend.

She turns back around to face him, a leg stuck between his knees and her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. Castiel’s used to drunk Meg and her antics, so the affection is normal, but when she leans up to whisper into his ear, her words are surprising. “Come on, put on a show.”

He pulls away far enough for his confusion to show, “For who?”

She rolls her eyes, ass grinding, and nods in the direction of the door. He looks over as subtlety as he can and finds Dean staring at the two of them. He’s pushed up against the wall, beer in hand as he talks to a kid Cas doesn’t recognize. But Cas notices that, even as he speaks, Dean’s eyes don’t leave him and Meg.

“He’s been staring like that since we started dancing.”

The song changes, but the beat is almost identical, so Castiel wraps a hand around Meg’s waist and pulls her closer. “Well then, let’s put on a show.”

Her laugh is intoxicating and he can’t help the curve of his lips in response. Her hands get raised above her head, and Castiel interlocks their fingers as she continues her dance against his leg.

“Anything for you, Clearance.”

Eventually, Castiel taps out and escapes to the kitchen for a break. It’s there that he finds Sam, plowing through the thick crowd on his way to the cabinet. Once he sees Castiel, he smiles and waves him over.

“What’s up?” Sam asks as he takes a large amount of red solo cups from the counter.

“Just got done dancing with Meg, what are you doing?”

“We’re playing beer pong, wanna join?”

He hesitates, “Who’s playing?”

“Dean, me, and Dean’s friend Benny. We need a third.”

He’s not one for drinking games, but the alcohol flooding through his veins has loosened him up exponentially, and the thought of spending time with both Sam and Dean is too good to pass up.

“Okay, sure. I’m game.”

He follows Sam from the kitchen onto the back porch, where there’s a long wooden table decorated with signatures in black sharpies, and playing host to solo cups in the shape of two big triangles. He sees Dean speaking to a guy he doesn’t know, with a thick beard and heavy accent. Dean looks over his shoulder as Sam calls his name, and his eyes find Cas’ almost immediately.

“You playing?” Dean asks, turning away from Benny and smiling in Castiel’s direction.

“Yeah,” Cas replies, “Sam convinced me.”

Dean turns to the other two and says, “I rescind my previous offer. I call Cas’ partner.”

Cas sees the way Sam’s eyebrow arches at his words.

“Dean, I don’t know if you really want that,” Castiel warns him, “I’ve never played before.”

“Not to fear, wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to carry my team.” Dean jokes, bumping his shoulder against Castiel’s with a shit eating grin. Castiel takes a sip from his bottle, closing all his fingers except his middle on around the bottle as he holds it up to flip Dean off. The older man just smiles and flips him off in return.

Dean explains the rules while Benny and Sam argue over who drinks for who. Castiel listens intently, soaking up the information and not at all focusing on the way Dean’s lips curl around the words.

“So, if Sam gets a ball in a cup, drink from your bottle.” Dean says in summary.

“Quick question, why are the cups filled with water? I thought the whole purpose of beer pong was to drink beer from the cups?”

“We learned the hard way that outside beer pong is easier if you just drink from a separate cup. That way if the balls get in the dirt, it doesn’t make the beer gross.”

And, oh, that makes sense.

“You want to go first?” Dean asks, handing him a small plastic ping pong ball.

His stomach is burning with nerves, but the alcohol in his system calms him down enough that he thinks he can do this. Plus, maybe if he sucks completely Dean will take his hand and show him the proper form. The thought makes him snort.

“Why the hell not?” He says with a grin, stepping forward and too close to Dean. He licks his lips, eyeing the shape of cup on the other side, and tosses it, flicking his wrist as the ball leaves his hand. A second later, he hears a “plunk” and sees expressions of disbelief on Sam and Benny’s faces. He watches in glee as Sam takes a long drag from his beer.

“Dude I thought you said you’d never played?” Dean asks, face almost as disbelieving as Sam and Benny’s.

“I haven’t,” Castiel answers honestly - the smile on his face so wide it almost hurts, “Guess you’re just my good luck charm.”

And whoops, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Dean just returns his grin and shakes his head, lining up to take his own shot. “Guess I am, Cas.”

It gets down to the wire. Cas and Dean just need one more cup to win, and Sam and Benny need two. Castiel lines up his shot and airballs it. He takes a deep breath and turns to Dean. The alcohol in his system gives him enough courage to cup Dean’s jaw in his hands, look him in the eyes, and say, “Please don’t blow this.”

Dean makes it.

Castiel’s so shocked that he doesn’t even realize that Dean pulls him into a hug. He’s smiling so wide his face hurts and he returns the hug as soon as he realizes that it’s Dean’s body pressed against his own. His hands wrap around Dean’s neck, Dean’s hand around Cas’ waist, and he laughs with the force of his glee.

“Guess you’re my good luck charm too, Cas.” Dean says into his ear, he’s holding his beer with one hand, his other one pulling Cas against his side.

He knows he should pull away, but being tucked against Dean’s shoulder feels so nice he doesn’t even care if Sam notices.

And by the look Sam’s sending him over his empty beer can, Cas assumes he noticed.

After beer pong, he somehow gets roped into a round of shots with Ruby and Meg. The first two, a syrupy green drink that tastes like sour apple, go down easy enough. However, when Meg shoves a shot glass full of a rancid clear liquid under his nose, he gags. It smells like rubbing alcohol, but he’s already drunk enough that the thought of getting even farther over the edge doesn’t seem like a terrible idea.

He smiles at the two girls, tapping his shot glass against the table and the shooting it back into his throat. Which is a terrible idea he immediately regrets because it’s not just a clear liquid, it’s fucking Everclear, and if he didn’t think he was going to die before, he’s almost positive he’s going to now.

He coughs as he swallows, stealing a sip of Meg’s Dr. Pepper as a chaser, and wishing he had skipped out on that last one.

“Hey kid,” Ruby says, once he’s stopped coughing and his eyes are no longer overrun with tears, “We’re gonna be playing spin the bottle if you want to join.”

Meg shoots him a knowing look over her drink, “Heard Sam’s playing.”

“Yeah I’ll play, just got to run to the bathroom really quick.”

“You good babe?” Meg asks, her usual attitude diminished by a touch of concern.

He shrugs off her worry with a grin, “No worries I won’t get sick, just got to break the seal.”

“Okay!” Ruby says, her voice falsely cheerful, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

“Thank Ruby,” He murmurs, following the path down the hall and trying not to stumble and collide with the people that gather in the halls. Cas hadn’t realized before, but there’s a ridiculous amount of people crammed into her house. He’d be surprised if there was less than one hundred people at the current moment.

Castiel enters the bathroom in the master bedroom and pulls the door shut behind him. Castiel relieves himself - thank God - and washes his hands in the sink. After a second thought, he rinses his mouth with a little mouthwash and prays it masks the taste of Everclear in his mouth.

As he’s reaching for the door handle to go back to the party, he hears talking just outside the door.

“We’re playing spin the bottle.” A girl says, “You should play.”

He hears a laugh and then, “What are we? Seventh graders?” A man says, and after a second he recognizes it as Dean’s voice.

“Come on, please play. Ruby said Cas was playing.”

It’s silent for a moment, and Castiel feels like he’s invading a conversation he wasn’t meant to hear. “Fine, I’ll play.”

“Yes!” The girl cheers, “I knew you’d agree, but I have to admit, it’s kind of pathetic.”

“Trust me,” Dean replies, “You don’t even know the half of it.”

“Maybe, and this is just a thought, you could say something?”

“What the hell am I supposed to say, Charlie?”

“You don’t have to bitch at me just because you’re emotionally stunted.” The girl says, although her tone is less than angry, more sad.

He hears the shuffling of clothes and then Dean’s reply, “You know what, forget I said anything.”

“You can’t just ignore it, and hope it goes away.”

Dean’s voice sounds farther away when he replies, as if he’s leaving the room, “Watch me.”

Castiel waits a few moments after he hears the sound of their footsteps leaving, and leans against the door. He knows the conversation he overheard was meaningful, but he’s way too drunk to even begin to piece together its implications. He exits the bathroom, heading in the direction of the living room.

They end up in Ruby’s living room, spread out on the floor in a less than perfect circle. Ariana Grande’s “7 Rings” is playing at an almost offensive volume, and Ruby - who sits next to him - raps along loudly. The man on his other side looks familiar, although he can’t place his name, but he thinks he graduated the year after Dean. Dean and Sam are on the other side of the circle, Amelia from his History class beside Sam, and Meg sits between Dean and a redhead girl he doesn’t recognize, but assumes is the girl from the bathroom. There are a few other people he doesn’t recognize, which isn’t at all surprising.

“I’ll go first,” Ruby volunteers, reaching forward to spin the vanilla vodka bottle that sits in the middle of the circle. As the bottle spins, she stretches her long arms and leans closer to Castiel. She’s a little drunk, and this is technically the first time they’ve ever met, but he likes her well enough. She smells like overpriced perfume and cheap vodka, but he allows her to cling to him as she watches the bottle come to a stop, pointing at the red head sitting next to Dean. Charlie, he thinks.

Ruby’s smile changes to something almost predatory as she motions slowly for the girl to come closer to her. The red head flushes almost the same color as her hair as she crawls closer to Ruby. Ruby’s the one who kisses her first, a sweet little kiss, that surprises Castiel considering what he knows about the girl. They break with a smile, Ruby’s fingers tangled in the girl’s red curls before she winks and releases her.

“Clarence, you wanna go next?” Meg asks, flashing a less than innocent grin in Cas’ direction. He nods, silent, and takes another swig from his bottle. He leans forward to spin the bottle, hard, and watches as Meg winks at him over the rim of her red solo cup. He sits back on his heels, watching as the bottle spins around again, before slowing down and coming to a stop. He looks up and his heart almost stops as his breath catches in his throat.

On the other side of the bottle, smiling sweetly, is Sam Winchester.

Castiel casts a quick glance at Dean, who has something akin to uncomfortable annoyance on his face. Castiel’s heart is beating like a sledgehammer in his chest, and the butterflies in his stomach have awoken from their alcohol induced sleep. Sam leans back a little, spreading his arms in a “come here” sort of motion that makes Castiel feel light headed.

He takes his cue from the red head girl, and crawls through the center of the circle until he’s right at Sam’s legs, which are spread open invitingly. His throat is horrifically dry and the room is spinning so fast he can’t think straight.

“Come here, Cas.” Sam says, and Castiel takes that as a signal to further slide up Sam’s lanky body. He stops as soon as his legs are bracketing Sam’s thighs. He doesn’t move any farther, waiting to let Sam take the lead. As if he can read Castiel’s mind, Sam’s hand comes up to rest on Cas’ cheek, not pressuring but steadying and comforting.

Slowly, like their bodies are magnets, drawn to each other, Castiel and Sam’s mouths slowly get closer, until they press together in a perfect and sweet kiss.

There are no fireworks. There is no singing fat lady, no doves flying above his head, or anything else eccentrically wild. But as far as first kisses go, it’s kind of perfect. Sam’s body is warm and strong beneath him, his hand a comforting presence to ground Castiel, and his lips are soft and his mouth tastes sweet like the cinnamon gum he was chewing earlier. It’s electric, every nerve in Cas’ body is on fire as his lips move against Sam’s. There’s just a hint of Sam’s tongue, dragged across his bottom lip, and he shivers. He’s falling apart at the seams as Sam literally takes him apart with the kiss.

He pulls back, feeling a little dazed, and looks at Sam’s soft hazel eyes staring at him and frowns. The kiss was good. Hell, it was perfect. So why does he feel like shit?

Dean’s previous words echo back to him.

“Once you kiss someone else you’ll realized that I’ve ruined kissing other people for you.”

It’s as he’s sitting there, thighs bracketing Sam’s, that Castiel thinks about how different it had been to kiss Dean. How it had been fireworks, all consuming, and how he’d thought he’d never get enough.

He wonders, for the first time, if his feelings for Dean aren’t as platonic as he thought. Someone coughs and it brings him back to the present, where he smiles awkwardly and climbs off Sam’s lap.

Castiel can barely look at Sam as he makes his way back to his seat next to Ruby. He tucks his foot beneath his ass and casts a look at Dean. Something terrible sinks in his stomach at the purposely blank look on the older man’s face. Castiel feels longing and regret curl insistently in his chest, hopelessly tangled like one of Anna’s old necklaces.

“That was surprisingly not hot.” Meg comments and Castiel sort of zones out for the rest of the game. The bottle only lands on him once, thankfully, and he has to share a quick peck with the red head sitting next to Dean. It lasts for a second and then she’s pulling away and flashing him a smile, “I’m Charlie, by the way.” So he was right, it was the girl from the bathroom.

“Castiel,” He says and Charlie lets out a little laugh.

“Duh dude, I know who you are. Dean’s one of my best friends.”

He decides not to look into this and allows Charlie to move back to her spot as Dean reaches out to take his turn. The bottle spins a few times, eventually rolling to a stop on the girl next to Meg. Dean offers her a little more than generous kiss, hands coming up to tangle in her hair as he all but fucks her mouth with his tongue, and Castiel digs his nails into his palms to keep from saying anything.

The girl looks dazed when he finally pulls away, however, Dean is looking less than affected. He sits back down in his seat and doesn’t spare a glance in Castiel’s direction.

The game comes to a close quickly after that and Castiel polishes off the rest of his bottle within seconds. He begins to regret all his major life decisions as soon as the bottle is empty. He’s sitting on the couch next to a girl who is, to the best of his knowledge, smoking a joint, and he starts reviewing the past several weeks of his life. He had decline a game of beer pong with Ruby and decided to be miserable by himself. Alcohol really brings out the worst in him. He hasn’t seen Dean since the game, and he’s almost positive it’s because Dean is purposely avoiding him.

He’s sitting there, half tempted to call Gabriel or Anna and beg them to take him home, when Dean appears out of nowhere and sits down on the couch next to him.

“You okay?” He asks, his whisper barely audible over the sounds of the party.

He shrugs, “‘m fine.”

Dean doesn’t seem convinced and he stands up and offer his hand to Castiel, “Come on, why don’t we get some fresh air? It’s kinda stuffy in here.”

He doesn’t really want to go outside, but he figures a cigarette might make him feel better, so he reaches out and lets Dean drag him towards the back patio.

If the front of Ruby’s house was beautiful, words cannot even begin to describe the back porch.  
It’s set with red brick, and has soft lights illuminating the area in rays of gold. Dean drops down to sit on one of the steps that lead to the actual back yard, and Castiel sits on the step in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” Dean says suddenly, hurried and quick like the words forced themselves from his mouth.

“For what?”

“I promised you I’d look after you, and then I practically ignored you for the past hour.”

Castiel smiles at the man’s words, so he was right, “It’s fine, Dean. You’re allowed to have fun; I don’t require a full time babysitter. I understand that you wanted to see your friends, and I promise it’s not a big deal.” Although his words come out much more slurred.

“But what if I wasn’t ignoring you to see my friends.”

“Then why were you avoiding me?”

Dean’s quiet for a second before he lets out a small laugh, “Nevermind Cas, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me.”

“It’s nothing, just let it go.”

Castiel’s tongue darts across his bottom lip and he notices the way Dean’s eyes seem to linger there. He takes a shot in the dark and says what he’s been thinking since spin the bottle, “You’re upset that I kissed Sam?”

He phrases it more like a question and prays that Dean doesn’t shoot up and away at the mention of anything remotely chick-flicky.

Dean looks over his shoulder - back at the house - and lets out another almost self deprecating laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous Cas. You can kiss whoever you want. In fact, I’m kinda proud. I know you’ve been crushing on Sammy for forever.”

“Oh,” He says.

“How was it, anyways? Considering I taught you to kiss, and Sam’s no doubt learned about all my tricks throughout the years, I’d bet it was phenomenal.”

“It was good.”

He sees Dean eyebrow arch, “Just good?”

Castiel’s hands shake as he lights a cigarette. He debates for a second about actually saying what he wants to. “Anything I tell you stays between us, right?”

Dean nods, “Of course.”

“Do you remember what you said to me the other day on the phone? About how you’ve ruined kissing for me?”

“Yeah?”  
“Were you joking or do you think it could seriously happen? Like the kiss was good, but there were no fireworks. I didn’t feel like I was burning alive, like I did when we kissed.”

Dean’s quiet for a moment, and he looks contemplative, “Can I be honest?”

“Please,”

“I think you’ve been pinning over him for so long that the reality doesn’t quite live up to your daydreams, and, besides, your first kiss is always different, special.” Dean says, and it echos Anael’s words dangerously, “But that doesn’t mean it can’t work out. It’s just going to take a bit for you to get used to the reality.”

“So you’re saying it’s not Sam, it’s me. And you’re saying I only felt sparks between us because it was my first kiss?”

“Yeah, exactly Cas.”

“So,” Castiel starts, “If I were to kiss you again, it wouldn’t feel like the first time?”

“Probably not.”

Castiel smashes his cigarette out on the ground and turns to face Dean more fully. “Care to test it?”

Dean’s eyes look dark in the lack of light, and Castiel watches him swallow. A second later, a hand reaches out and pulls Castiel close. He goes willingly, falling between Dean’s thighs, dangerously close. Dean’s hands come up to cup his face, eyes running along the contours of his face, before settling on his lips. Cas fists his hands in the rough denim of Dean’s jeans fisted by his thighs, and releases a shaky breath.

Slowly, so fucking slowly, they lean towards each other. Castiel’s hands shake and his breathing is unsteady as he’s so close to closing the gap between them. He can feel Dean’s breath against his skin, and just as he’s within distance to finally taste Dean’s lips and-

“Dean get your ass in here, you have to be my partner in beer pong!” Charlie’s words cut through the tension.

Cas jumps back, hands still tangled in Dean’s jeans. The older Winchester looks at him softly, pressing a longing kiss to his cheek, before pulling away and heading inside without a backwards glance.

Castiel sits back down, lights another cigarette, and decides that - yeah - his feelings for Dean definitely aren’t platonic. It’s kind of terrifying, he’s spent so long believing he was in love with Sam, and now he has all these feelings for Dean. That’s not to say he’s not still in love with Sam, because he’s pretty sure he is, but apparently there’s no limit on how much love his heart has to offer.

Once he finishes the smoke, he goes inside to find Sam, who’s passed out snoring softly on the couch. His head is tucked against the back cushion, and he looks so comfortable that Castiel sits down next to him. His eyelids feel heavy, so he leans his head against Sam’s shoulder, using it as a pillow, and closes his eyes.

He’s awaken sometime later by Dean shaking him gently. There are still quite a few people at the house, but there’s a panicked vibe that wasn’t present earlier, and people are rushing around them speaking in hushed tones.

“Come on, Cas, you gotta get up.” Dean’s voice says, and it’s calm and collected, but urgent.

He sits up, yawning and stretching his arms. “What’s going on?” He asks, noticing the spot next to him, that Sam once occupied, is empty.

“Cops are on the way, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

His blood goes cold, “What?”

“Hey, listen, everything’s going to be fine. I promised I’d take care of you. Benny’s got a friend down at the station that said the party just got called in. We’ve got about ten minutes before the cops get here, so we’ve got to move. You good to walk?”

He stands up, immediately feeling soberer than before. Fuck! He can’t go to jail!

“Yeah I can walk.”

“Okay, go out to the Impala and wait for me there.”

“What?” He asks incredulous, “No, I’m not going anywhere without you.”  
“Cas, please. I have to find Zeke and Charlie. Sam’s already in Baby, please just go wait for me there.”

Cas holds his ground, “I have to find Meg.”

“Meg already headed out.”

“I’m still not leaving you.”

Dean looks like he still wants to argue, but must realize that they’re wasting valuable time arguing, so he reaches out and grabs Castiel’s hand in his own, interlocking their fingers.

“Fine.”

Dean all but drags him along behind him in the direction of the master bedroom. Cas stumbles on his feet and prays they get out of here in time. He doesn’t think Dean will put him in harm’s way, but ten minutes isn’t a lot of time to find their friends and get out of here.

Dean marches down the hall, telling everyone he comes across that the cops are on their way and that they better get the hell out of there now. When they get outside the master bedroom, the door is shut and Dean doesn’t bother knocking, just pushes it open.

Castiel blinks.

Ruby’s laying on top of Charlie on the bed, and they’re locked in an insanely intimate lip lock.

“Hey ladies, sorry for interrupting, but Ruby you should know the cops will be here in less than ten minutes. Charlie, is your ride still here?”

They break apart as soon as the word, “Cops,” falls out of Dean’s mouth, rushing to piece back together their outfits. Charlie’s on the phone with her ride while Ruby speaks with Dean about what kind of law enforcement arrival they should be expecting.

“Interesting development.” He hears Ruby say, and looks back at her. Cas finds her staring at their conjoined hands and flushes, but refuses to pull away from Dean’s side. He’s kind of dozed off, staring at nothing, just listening to the soft murmur of Dean’s voice.

“Listen,” Dean continues as if she hadn’t said anything, “I don’t know if you can get everyone out before they get here. So just keep the lights and music off, hide people in the pool shed if you have to.”

“I will, now please take the minors off my property before the cops get here.”

Dean kisses Charlie’s forehead goodbye and all but shoes her from the room. They follow after her, hands still intertwined. At the bottom of the stairs, Dean stops.

“I’m just going to run up real fast and see if Zeke’s still here. Should I even bother asking if you’ll go to the car?”

“No, you shouldn’t, so can we please hurry before I get arrested.”

Dean’s grip tightens and he pulls Cas up the stairs beside him. They split up, checking each bedroom until Dean finally finds Zeke. He’s sitting in Ruby’s older brother’s bedroom playing COD.

“Dude, cops are coming, you’ve got to leave or your ass is going to jail.”

“I’m not even drunk?” Zeke says, as he pauses the game.

Dean’s hand finds Cas’ once more, “Doesn’t matter, you’ll still blow. Charlie’s downstairs waiting for you. Please hurry.”

Zeke shrugs and follows them back down the stairs. Dean seems calm and put together, but the way he takes the steps two at a time fills Castiel in on how worried he actually is. He’s over twenty-one, as well as Ruby, but they could still get charged with buying for a minor, not to mention Dean’s 18 year old brother is passed out drunk in the car outside.

The front yard is full of commotion, and Dean let’s go of Cas’ hand to help direct cars out of the driveway. Castiel stands next to Baby, watching as Dean barks sharp orders, pointing and getting as many cars out as he can.

He sees several cars further down Ruby’s road, a couple miles out, lights bright in the darkness and his stomach drops.

“Dean,” He says, pointing at the cars when Dean looks over his shoulder at Cas. He’s starting to panic at this point, and Dean seems to sense that because he presses a quick kiss to Cas’ forehead.

Dean motions to Ruby, “Everyone else in the basement, now. You’ve got maybe 4 minutes.”

Ruby gives him a nod, shutting the large wooden door to her house, and Dean grabs Castiel’s hand once more, pushing him in the direction of the Impala. Cas’ hands shake as he opens the door, immediately sliding as close to Dean as he can. The eldest Winchester starts the car, easing on the gas as he follows the last few remaining cars out of Ruby’s driveway. As soon as they hit the main road, the gates automatically close behind them with a loud squeak.

It’s once they’re a good half mile away that Cas sees the lights flick on in the rearview mirror, right beside Ruby’s house. The red and blue is so bright, even at such a distance, and Castiel hopes Ruby got everyone inside okay.

“Damn cherries and berries.” Dean murmurs and Castiel’s adrenaline slowly begins to leave his body, leaving him overly exhausted.

“Jesus Christ that was scary,” He says, only just then realizing how close he is to Dean, and how drunk he still is.

“It’s okay, told you I’d take care of you.”

“Yeah you did.” Castiel says with a smile, checking the back to make sure Sam’s asleep, before dropping his head onto Dean’s shoulder. A second later, Dean’s hand comes to rest on his thigh, and Castiel closes his eyes.

The ride to Dean’s apartment is only a couple of minutes, and they somehow manage to get Sam inside and on the couch without too much commotion. It’s once Sam’s safely snoring again, that Castiel takes the opportunity to look around.

Dean’s apartment is unsurprisingly exactly what Castiel had expected. It’s relatively tidy, there are a few spare articles of clothing and such laying around, but there’s a method to the chaos. In the corner closest to Cas, there’s a large TV in the corner, a brown L shaped sectional surrounding it that Sam’s passed out on. There’s a McDonald’s bag sitting on the tabletop in the kitchen, and a few dishes in the sink, but it is otherwise pristine. Castiel figures Dean goes back home to let Mrs. Winchester do most of the cooking.

On the wall closest to the TV is a large Led Zeppelin poster.

Like Castiel said, the whole place is remarkably Dean.

Speaking of, Castiel turns back to the host and finds him looking slightly uncomfortable.

“You can take my bed.”

He follows Dean into the master bedroom, and when the man starts digging through his dresser, Cas takes the opportunity to explore Dean’s room. Like the rest of the house, it’s very much like Castiel expected.

The bed is hazardously made, striped white and blue sheets that have an eerie resemblance to Castiel’s own. There’s a pile of cassette tapes (all of them classic rock, of course) on the desk, and a Bob Seger poster hanging by the bed.

“Here,” Dean says, holding out a pair of grey sweatpants and a worn AC/DC t shirt. Dean disappears while he changes, and once he’s dressed, Castiel lays down on the bed and plays with the drawstring.

He can’t believe he’s in Dean Winchester’s bed, wearing his clothes!

Dean comes back a moment later, dressed in his own sweatpants/t shirt combo.

“Where you sleeping?” Castiel asks, his voice delirious with exhaustion.

“I’ll just take the recliner.”

Cas huffs a laugh and scoots closer to the wall, “Don’t be stupid. We can share.”

Dean frowns, “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Course not.”

He pats the spot next to him, and a minute later the lights flick off and Dean’s curling up beside him in the bed. Castiel lays frozen for a second, before a hand reaches out and brushes tentatively across his shoulder.

“Come here,” Dean whispers, his voice low and deep - the definition of seduction. He should be worried about Sam finding them, but all he can think about is how badly he wants to be wrapped up with Dean. He allows Dean to curl around him, tugging Cas into his chest.

Dean’s chest is pressed against his back, his right hand thrown over Castiel’s hip and his left acting as a sort of pillow. He can feel the soft exhale of Dean’s breath against the back of his neck, and it makes him shiver.

“I’m sorry about tonight. For ignoring you.”

“It’s okay,” Castiel offers low, “You more than made up for it.”

“I promised I would. Just remind me that we should talk tomorrow when we’re both sober, okay?”

“Okay,” He replies softly, “Goodnight Dean.”

The arms around him tighten, “Night Cas.”

He blinks open his eyes sometime later, rays of the early morning sunlight just starting to peek through Dean’s bedroom window, and he knows it can’t be any later than 7am. Cas yawns, the action making the pounding in his head more noticeable. Dean’s pressed up behind him in the same position as when they fell asleep. It’s almost too good to pull away, but the dryness in his throat is impossible to ignore.

He maneuvers out from underneath Dean’s arm and watches as the man lets out another soft breath and curls into the space Cas had just vacated. He smiles, happy to see Dean without the walls he usually plasters up like it’s his job. He looks softer somehow, younger.

Cas rolls his shoulders and sneaks out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He’s pouring a glass of water when the fridge opens beside him.

It scares the shit out of him. He jumps and turns to see Sam blinking bleary into the fridge. He looks at Sam for a second, watches him sway on his feet before asking the question he’s been thinking.

“Are you still drunk?”

“You know Castiel is such a weird name? Castiel. Cas-te-el. Cas- tie - el. El like elk. That’s cool, dude. You’re named after an elk.”

“Okay, so that’s a yes.”

“Did you ask something?” Sam says, squinting at him.

Castiel smiles at him, “Let’s get you something to eat and some water, then we can get you back to bed.”

He heats up some pizza rolls and watches, half asleep, while Sam shoves them all in his mouth. They left the party a little after four, and his phone reads 6:30, so he’s barely had two hours of sleep. Once he’s finished, Cas moves his dishes to the coffee table and pulls the throw blanket from the floor and draps it across Sam.

“Where you sleeping?” Sam asks around a yawn.

“Your brother let me take his bed.”

“Oh,” Sam says, eyes scrunched up like he’s confused, “Where’s Dean sleeping then?”

He panics for a second, but calms down when he remembers that Sam’s still inebriated. He’s in no condition to question whatever Cas tells him. “He took the floor.”

Sam nods and Cas relinquishes in the silence. He looks down at his hands, crossed over his chest, and tries to figure out if he should tell Sam. He’s practically in love with his brother, so he thinks that Sam might deserve to know, but at the same time, if Dean wanted Sam to know, he would have told him himself. So maybe Dean doesn’t want him to know. Besides, he still hasn’t figured out exactly where his feelings for either boy falls, so he doesn’t know if it’s the appropriate time.

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip and contemplates the idea of giving him a hint.

“Sam,” Castiel starts, his eyes still glued to the floor, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He finally drags his eyes up and lets out a loud sigh. Sam’s eyes are closed, his mouth open and little sighs falling from his lips. He’s asleep.

Castiel smiles to himself, collects the dishes from the coffee table - leaving the water - and returns them to the sink. Then he tiptoes back into Dean’s bedroom. Carefully, he pulls back the comforter and reclaims his position. He thinks he made it without waking Dean up, but then he sees the corner of the older man’s mouth twitch and knows he’s busted.

“I was wondering if you skipped out on me.” Dean says without opening his eyes, his voice even rougher than it normally is. Cas isn’t lying when says he thinks it might be the hottest thing ever.

“Just went to check on your brother.” Castiel says, feeling Dean curl even closer to him. He can feel the eldest Winchester’s breath on his neck, his hands brushing against his hip.

He can feel Dean’s smile against his neck. “How is Sammy?”

“Still drunk.”

Dean hums, his lips moving softly against the flesh of Cas’ neck. He shifts on the bed, feels a layer of goosebumps spread across his skin.

“I feel like we kept getting interrupted tonight, right when we were getting to the good part,” Castiel hums, the feel of Dean’s lips on him making it hard to speak.

Dean sighs softly and his hand comes out to trace against Castiel’s jawline, “It’s probably for the best. We were both drinking and I wouldn’t want you to have woken up this morning and regretted anything. I know I’m just helping you out, giving you experience or whatever, but I’d kill myself if I ended up hurting you.”

Giving you experience.

He winches at the words.

He feels so stupid. He closes his eyes, feels Dean’s calloused fingers against his skin, and wishes he could take back his revelation from tonight. He had been so foolish. He’d been so worried about if he liked Dean, he didn’t stop to realize that Dean would never like him back. All of this, all the kissing and touching, he’s just doing what Castiel asked, just teaching him the things he doesn’t know.

“Everything okay?” Dean asks quietly and Castiel could laugh.

He blinks away the pain and smiles. “Yeah, ‘course it is, and you’re right. We’d both been drinking, it was smart not to do anything we’d regret.”

“Cas, I just-”

“Let’s get some sleep, okay? We can talk later. We’re both running on a few hours and I’m exhausted.”

Dean looks like he’s going to argue, before he succumbs and nods his head in agreement. He pulls Castiel closer to him, but Cas rolls onto his other side before they can get too close. Dean throws an arm over his hip, and it’s so damn nice that even though he should, he can’t bring himself to push it off.

He curls into himself, feeling stupid and pathetic, and closes his eyes and tries to even out his breathing.

Once he’s sure Dean’s asleep, he slides out of bed once more and collects his things from Dean’s bedside table. He dials Gabriel’s number as he exits the apartment, and holds the phone up to his ear.

“Dude, it’s like eight in the morning.” Gabriel says, and Castiel knows he woke him up.

“Can you come pick me up? I’ll buy you breakfast. All you can eat pancakes at Jody’s?”

“Damn you,” Gabriel sighs, “Text me the addy and I’ll leave once I’m dressed.”

“Thank you!” Castiel says, breathing a sigh of relief. “See you in a bit.”

He waits on a bench outside Dean’s apartment building and absentmindedly kicks a rock back and forth with the toes of his sneakers. He wishes he had a cigarette or a piece of gum, or something to keep him occupied. He had, unfortunately, burned through all his cigarettes last night. Fifteen minutes after he fist called, he recognizes Gabriel’s car pull up alongside the sidewalk, and slides into the passenger seat.

“Wow, never thought I’d see you doing the walk of shame.” His brother’s words greet him as soon as his butt touches the leather seat.

“You have to have sex to do the walk of shame,” Castiel says, “Also please stop talking or I might throw up.”

He sees the grin Gabriel shoots his direction, far too happy for this early in the morning, and watches as his brother passes him a pair of almost completely blacked out sunglasses. He slips them on his face, thankful that they block out much of the still rising sun, and leans his head back against the headrest.

He feels a little better by the time they pull up to Jody’s, and after the Hangover Special - something Jody invented for Gabriel he hears - he feels even more alive. That is, until Gabriel starts asking questions.

“So, who’s apartment?”

“What?” Castiel says, popping the last half of his biscuit in his mouth.

“Whose apartment did you stay the night at?”

He debates for a second about lying, but decides that Gabriel would probably know if he did. Hell, he probably knows who’s apartment it is and is just trying to get Cas to say it out loud.

“Dean Winchester’s.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows almost shoot off his forehead and he tips his head back, a soft laughter falling from his lips. “You’re fucking your best friend’s brother?”

“No, it’s not like that, Gabe.”

“Then what is it like?”

Hell, he’s not even sure if he knows. But, once again, he wants to lie. He wants to tell Gabriel that Dean just took them back because they were too drunk to drive, that they hadn’t even gone to the party together, because there’s a one hundred percent chance that Gabe is going to give him hell about this, but maybe he can offer some brotherly advice too.

“You have to swear this doesn’t leave here.”

“Who am I going to tell?” Gabriel huffs, his tone annoyed.

Castiel narrows his eyes, “Did you forget when you posted a blog about Anna loosing her virginity?”

Gabriel looks like he’s about to protest before he deflates in his seat, “Okay, so I told one secret, once. But I swear I won’t say anything. Now tell me before the anticipation kills me.”  
“Fine, God, this is an awful idea.” Castiel groans, hiding his face behind his hands, “Okay, so up until a couple of weeks ago, I had never even kissed anyone. Being the nerd that I am, I was looking online at tips and hints, and stuff. I didn’t realize Dean came downstairs and he caught me, kinda gave me shit for it, but only jokingly. Anyways, I ended up asking him to teach me and we’ve been making out, heavy making out, since. I thought that maybe we could make something of it but he made it abundantly clear last night that he’s still just helping me out or whatever. But I keep thinking that maybe he’s actually into me. Like he saved my ass big time last night, got us out of the party right before the cops came, and there was some kissing and touching last night, but I’m so confused. I love Sam so I don’t know what to do because I think I’m getting feelings for Dean, and I could really use my big brother right now.”

When he’s finished, he finally opens his eyes and looks at Gabriel. He looks equal parts impressed and sad - but there’s no pity in his eyes or laughter.

“Two things. First off, just because you love Sam doesn’t mean you can’t get feelings for Dean. It’s possible to love two people at once. Now that that’s out of the way, don’t cut Grumpy Winchester off just yet. You’ve been happier than I’ve ever seen you these past few days, and I attribute it to him. He obviously cares about you, and you him. So maybe just don’t push him away yet. Give him some time to prove himself.”

“Grumpy Winchester?”

“Yeah, Grumpy and Dopey Winchester.”

Despite his pounding headache and imminent heartbreak, Castiel can’t help but snort out a laugh at Gabe’s nickname for Sam and Dean. He throws a piece of toast at his brother’s head and smiles when he says, “I fucking hate you.”

“Aw, thanks babe.” Gabriel says in response, “Now can we please talk about why you let Grumpy of all people take your kiss virginity.”

Castiel throws another piece of toast, and Gabe’s laughter echoes off the walls.

He’s laying in bed later that morning, miserable with a pounding headache, looking at his unopened messages from Dean.

Dean:) (10:02PM): Hey, you left early. Call when you get a chance?  
Dean:) (11:13PM): At least let me know you made it home?

He’s debating whether or not to reply, when his TV cuts in with a familiar theme song.

“Don’t forget to tune in tonight at 7 for an Indiana Jones marathon, featuring all four Indiana Jones movies!”

He remembers Dean chiding him for never having watched them. Thinking back to Gabe’s words, Castiel unlocks his phone and types out a new message.

Dean :) (11:43AM): Sorry just saw this! I’m home! There’s an Indiana Jones Marathon tonight at 7 if you wanna come over?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Inspiration behind Ruby's House](http://www.marylyonarts.com/1524713374-vio-dafdb5d85c161c0a.html)  
> The song Cas and Meg dance to is, "Truth Hurts" by my queen Lizzo


	9. Sunday, April 21st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to the Beatles when I wrote this, so it took a little bit of a melancholy vibe again. I'd apologize but I'm really not sorry, because I love the way it turned out. Surprised it only took me a bit to get this one out, but the chapter practically wrote itself!
> 
> Let me know what you think!

His reply comes a couple hours later.

Dean:) (3:29PM): Sounds fun. I’ll be over around 6:45?

The butterflies in his chest pick up immediately, swarming through his stomach and increasing his anxiety tenfold. He types out a reply, fingers shaking just slightly.

To Dean:) (3:31PM): Okay! See you then.

And so starts his panic. He really doesn’t want to subject Dean to his family, so he figures they can watch the marathon in his room. The idea brings on a whole new set of worries, in which he’s worried that being so close to Dean will cause all his conflicted emotions to spill from his mouth like molten lava.

Fuck! And his room’s a mess!

A wave a nausea consumes him as he climbs out of bed, stomach rolling as his head pounds. The first thing on his agenda is straightening up his room.

Castiel picks up the pieces of clothes that liter his floor, shoving them into the hamper that sits hidden in his closet. Then he collects the dirty dishes on his nightstand and moves them into the hallway to be taken downstairs later. His sheets are clean enough that he doesn’t bother changing them; instead he hides anything embarrassing that Dean might see and tucks his comforter under his pillows.

Okay then. His room is done, which gives him about three hours to continue panicking. Damn it, why did he think this was a good idea? He can’t be left alone with Dean, in his room, for four full-length movies. He’ll go insane, or possibly explode, or - even worse - Dean will take this for something it’s not and figure out that Castiel’s got a small heart boner for him and freak out.

Fuck his life.

No time to panic, he’s got to finish getting ready. Castiel runs the dishes downstairs and puts them in the dishwasher. His family’s nowhere to be seen, but the only note that remains on the fridge is Anna’s from last night. He doesn’t know if she’s back home or not, but he could use her advice.

He types a quick message to her.

To Anna (3:43PM): Come find me when you get home.

He decides to take a quick shower to wash off the horrific stench of the party. The smell of booze, sweat, and cigarettes get washed down the drain, and the hot water is a relaxing constant pressure on his back. It pulls some of the tension out of his shoulders, making him feel a little less on edge and a little more excited.

He takes the silence the shower offers to think about just how complicated his feelings are. Maybe, in the solace of the shower, he can work through some of his angst.

Like most things in life, Cas decides to split his problem into two separate categories. In one metaphorical bucket goes all things Sam, and in the other: Dean.

Where at one point his feelings for Sam were the least complicated thing about him, now it seems like he knows more about how he feels towards Dean. He thinks he loves Sam still, but there’s some newly brewing feelings for Sam’s older brother that he didn’t notice before last night.

Is it possible to love two people at once? He doesn’t know, but his thoughts just keep circling back to his kiss with Sam last night. It was nice, and he enjoyed it, but Cas wasn’t lying to Dean. The kiss with Sam was nothing compared to what it felt like to kiss Dean. When he kissed Sam, he was content to continue their sweet kiss, but when he kissed Dean, he was on fire. He didn’t want to just keep kissing; he wanted to rip his clothes off and let Dean really take him apart. Which is fucked up, because he’s spent so long thinking he could never be into anyone the way he was into Sam.

This brings a whole new problem. Does he have feelings for Dean, or is it just infatuation, just lust?

Wait.

It doesn’t matter, does it? Whether he likes Dean, loves him, or just wants to sleep with him, it doesn’t change the fact that Dean Winchester is never, ever, going to want him back.

Castiel shuts the shower off with a slam and rolls his eyes. So much for figuring out his problems in the shower.

It’s once he’s finally dressed and sitting miserable and hungover on his bed that there’s a knock on his door. He panics for a second, thinking that it’s already seven, but then Anna’s head peeks in the crack and he breathes a sigh of relief.

“What’d you need, babe?” Anna asks, slipping inside and closing the door behind her. She walks over, dropping onto Castiel’s bed.

“Dean’s coming over.”

She blinks.

“Why aren’t you freaking out?” Castiel asks when it becomes clear that she’s not going to respond.

“Why would I freak out? It’s about time you finally got together.”

“What? We’re not together. He’s coming over as a friend. We’re just friends.”

Anna blinks again. “Oh. I’m sorry I thought you had a thing for him.”

“I mean, I might, I do. Maybe, I don’t really know.” Castiel tells her, “But we’re not together.”

“So you’re crushing on Dean, but you haven’t told him?”

He’s not sure why she’s surprised. He kept the Sam thing hidden for years.

Cas rests his head on her thigh and shrugs. “Dean’s not interested. He’s older and, like so hot, I’m sure he can find someone better to date. Plus there’s the whole Sam thing.”

“You’re really going to let this opportunity pass because you think he’s better than you? Or because you might still, sort of, have a thing for his brother?”

“I don’t think he is Anna, I know.”

“I know I’m biased, because we share the Novak genes, but Dean Winchester is no better than you. He is hot and charming, but you’re the most amazing guy I know. You’re smart and funny and so damn sweet. Plus, Novak genes, remember? Novak’s are like sex on a stick.”

He snorts at her metaphor, and smiles at the ground next to his bed. “I know, I just, I guess I’m just intimidated by him. And either way, he’s really not interested.”

Her lips curve into a displeased frown, “That’s not what I heard.”

“What?” He says sharply.

“I mean not from a reliable source or anything, but from the way Charlie describes it - and all the macking - I think he might like you more than you know.”

“You talk to Charlie?”

Anna snorts, “We did graduate together, you know?”

“Whatever, but the kissing didn’t mean anything, he was just teaching me how to kiss.”

“If I’m being honest,” Anna says with a smile, “I would never agree to teach someone to kiss if I wasn’t, at the very least, attracted to them.”

“I, eh-”

“Just think about it. Talk to him tonight” She says with a sweet smile, “But in the meantime, let’s get you ready for your not-date.”

He leans over and wraps his hands around her shoulder. She tucks her head against his chest and returns the hug. “Thanks Anna.”

“Of course, Cassie. You know I’m the sanest sibling you have.”

He snorts at that and nods, “That’s true, speaking of, please keep Gabe away from Dean tonight. I really don’t want a Gabe spills about Anna’s Virginity 2.0 here.”

She kisses his cheek, “I’ll do my best. Now get ready, you’ve only got an hour.”

When 6:44 rolls around, Castiel’s nerves have gotten the best of him. He’s sitting in the kitchen, intent on grabbing Dean and pulling him upstairs before his dad or Gabriel can see him. Not because Cas will get in trouble for having Dean over, but because he really doesn’t want the whole shovel talk or for his dad to embarrass the hell out of both of them.

His eye catches on a pink sticky note stuck to the fridge and Castiel sends out a silent thanks to Anna.

Took Gabriel to the mall to shoot his stupid canon. Be back sometime - Anna

A knock on the door scares the shit out of him, and Castiel stands up on instinct. He smooths his hair and the front of his tee shirt before taking a deep breath and pulling the door open.

Dean smiles at him.

“Hey,” Castiel says and takes the opportunity to really enjoy Dean’s appearance. He doesn’t look the slightest bit hungover, complexion perfect and not a single hair out of place. Dean’s wearing tight jeans and a slim fitting white v neck with a leather jacket.

He looks damn good.

“Heya Cas.” Dean says with a smirk, and Castiel breaths out a sigh that’s on the edge of too breathless. Dean holds up a six pack of beer, “I bought a treat.”

The thought of drinking more alcohol makes his stomach roll, but he smiles regardless. Castiel pulls the door open and invites him inside. “How do you not look hungover at all?”

“Didn’t drink very much. Had to keep an eye on you and Sam.”

“Speaking of, how’s he handling today? He was still drunk as hell this morning.” Castiel says as he walks into the kitchen, Dean following behind him.

“As well as can be expected. Spent a good portion of the morning throwing up and bitching to me about how bad his head hurts.” Dean says with a laugh as he sits the beer down on the kitchen table.

“How do you feel?” Dean asks, as Castiel pulls a bag of popcorn from the cabinet.

“Well this morning was hell, but I’m not too bad right now.” He says as he pours the corn into a bowl to be placed into the microwave. Once the timer’s set, he turns back to look at Dean.

Castiel is pushed back into the cabinet and Dean’s not making eye contact.

“Thank you again, by the way.” Castiel says, and when Dean looks up at him, the sunlight shines over his eyes so perfectly, that the green is almost fluorescent. “For last night.”

“Of course man,” Dean says as he looks down and rubs the back of his neck. It’s extremely endearing.

The microwave sounds behind him and Cas jumps, “Come on, we can watch this in my room so Gabriel doesn’t sick himself on you.”

Dean grabs the pack of beer and follows him up the stairs.

Once inside his door, Castiel sits the popcorn down on the bedside table. Dean follows in behind him, taking a moment to look at some of the pictures Cas has decorating the room. He watches Dean tense up and wonders what could have evoked such a reaction. Cas walks over to stand beside him, seeing the picture that Dean’s looking at.

Castiel looks away from Dean’s stoic face to the picture of Sam and him from too long ago. It was the night of his seventeenth birthday party. They’re sharing a lawn chair, Castiel mostly sprawled across Sam’s lap, with Sam’s arms wrapped around his waist. There’s a couple empty beer bottles littering the ground next to them, and Castiel’s mouth is wrapped around Sam’s beer bottle, while Sam looks at him smiling.

“You look happy.” Dean says, and his face betrays nothing.

“I was,” Castiel replies, bumping his shoulder against Dean’s, “You should know. You were there.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

He looks so inexplicably sad, that Castiel’s heart aches for him. Before he can pressure Dean into confessing whatever’s going on in that brain of his, the TV starts blaring the Indiana Jones theme song and he jumps.

“Come on,” Castiel says and breathes a sigh of relief when Dean offers him a smile.

“Time to educate you.”

Castiel rolls his eyes and crawls onto his bed, patting the bed beside him in a mirrored image of last night.

Dean sits the beer down next to the popcorn and climbs in next to Cas. They’re not touching, but Dean’s so close Castiel can feel the body heat that radiates off him. Castiel wants nothing more than to lean closer and curl up next to him, but after his profound revelation last night, he doesn’t want to do anything that could give himself away.

And, wow, hasn’t he come full circle? Just days ago he was enjoying the time he spent with Dean for the exact opposite reason. He was so used to being on edge around Sam, trying to hide his feelings, that being with Dean was a reprieve. And now he’s facing that same problem with the eldest Winchester. Maybe it’s something in the water, or the Winchester genes themselves, but Castiel’s really got to stop falling in love with people he doesn’t have a chance with.

He thinks he must have done something super terrible in his past life to deserve such horrible divine retribution. The movie opens with the landscape of a tree lined mountain range, and Castiel lets his mind quiet.

It’s about thirty minutes in when Castiel’s eyes begin to droop. It’s in the middle of an action scene, and the bar is on fire, but he’s so exhausted from last night he can barely stay awake. Dean must notice, because he scoots closer and all but pulls Castiel on top of him. Cas’ head ends up on his chest, his knee thrown over Dean’s leg, and one of Dean’s hands wrapped behind him and resting on his waist. It’s nice, peaceful even, and he can hear the soft thump of Dean’s heart in his chest and the even lull of his breath.

By the time Indiana arrives in Cairo, Castiel’s half passed asleep. Dean’s hand has moved through his hip and is now cascading gently through his hair, playing with the soft tangles that frame his face.

It’s downhill into the slope of oblivion not too long after that, drifting into the inky void of unconsciousness to the soft pound of Dean’s heartbeat and the sound of Harrison Ford on the TV.

When he wakes up sometime later, the sun has long since passed below the horizon, leaving his room in darkness with exception of the Television, which is playing images of Indiana running around kicking Nazi ass. Castiel yawns, wondering why he fell asleep to something like Indiana Jones.

And then it clicks.

He freezes, immediately remembering that he invited Dean over. The bed next to him is empty and the place Dean once occupied is cold. He panics for a moment, thinking Dean had gotten annoyed with Castiel drooling all over his shirt and booked it to the tree line. Before he can reach full panic, a jolt of laughter from downstairs stops him.

Cautiously, he slides out of bed and heads towards the staircase. As he rounds the corner, he can more easily make out the voices. They become more clear with each step, and with each step, Castiel’s panic increases.

He walks into the kitchen and blinks.

The sight is mostly usual. Gabriel’s sitting in the floor, sorting through a bag of M&Ms. Anna’s on the counter above him, laughing at something their father said, who - himself - is sitting at the table with a mug of coffee and joking around.

Most unusually however, is the fact that Dean’s standing in front of the stove - chest adorned with Gabe’s ridiculous ‘let’s get baked’ apron - flipping what looks like burgers as he speaks with Chuck. Dean takes a long swig from the bottle of beer in his hand and cracks a smile as Cas’ dad says something Cas doesn’t catch.

He blinks.

Now that he’s paying attention, it seems as though his entire family is engaged in the conversation. Gabe is sorting M&M’s, but he looks up every few moments to exchange words with Dean, all of which make Anna crack a smile. Chuck, in particular, looks most pleased with himself. The ever present crinkle in his brow has disappeared and he looks more relaxed than he ever has.

Even Dean seems to be genuinely enjoying himself. He flips the burgers with an uncanny easiness, trading jokes with Chuck, before he turns to toss a piece of chopped tomato into Gabriel’s mouth. Dean misses, horrifically, which only makes Anna laugh harder.  

He’s never seen someone fit into his family dynamic so easy, not even Sam.

“Am I interrupting?” Castiel asks after he observes the four of them for a moment. All four faces turn to look at him, expectantly, and Dean’s the first to speak.

“Heya Cas.”

He walks over to join Dean by the stove, trying to process the scene in front of him. Dean bumps his shoulder against Cas’ and he uses the opportunity to steal a sip from Dean’s bottle.

“I woke up and you had vanished.” He says, keeping his voice low so his family can’t hear.

Dean shrugs, the smile on his face growing, “After you fell asleep your dad came to check on you and we started talking. We got on the subject of food and I explained my famous burger - the Winchester special - and he offered to let me cook some up. I was going to wake you, but you seemed too comfortable to move.”

“Well, I am starving,” He says with a smile, trying to get over how freaking weird this is, “Knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

Dean gives him another one of those blinding smiles and Castiel can’t help but return it. Anna pulls Dean into conversation once more, and Cas drops down into a chair by his father.

“Dean’s something special, kiddo.” Chuck starts, and this was not a conversation he was expecting to have tonight. “You should have seen what I walked in on. You bundled up next to him, while he held you like that. He’s a good man.

“Dad,” Castiel starts, not wanting to have this conversation at all, let alone 5 feet from Dean.

“I asked him his intentions, intent to give him the whole shovel talk. Kid shut me up real fast.”

Castiel’s frown grows, “And how’d he do that?” He says, voice an almost whisper.

“Told me he just wanted you to be happy.” Chuck says, “I’d say that boy’s a keeper.”

“Dad,” He hisses, “It’s not like that.”

“I’m not saying it is. All I’m saying is I wouldn’t complain if you brought him around more often.” Chuck says, his tone knowing in more ways than one. And that’s what strikes a cord with Cas, because his dad has never said that about any of his friends, not even Sam.

“We’ll finish this conversation later.” He says, finality to his tone, just as Dean interrupts.

“Looks like a serious conversation over here, hope I’m not interrupting,” He says with a grin as he lays a plate of burgers down in front of them.

“Nonsense Dean, I was just asking Cas where he’s kept you hidden all this long.”

“I second that,” Gabe says as he takes a bite from his own burger, “He can make a damn good burger.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow at that, knowing that it’s almost impossible to get Gabriel to eat anything other than candy.

“I’ve always liked Dean, so I feel like chiming in is redundant,” Anna adds, and Castiel thinks he sees a flush of pink across the Winchester’s face. It’s sweet, and makes Castiel smile even wider.

“Y’all are too nice.” Dean murmurs as he takes the seat next to Castiel.

Chuck gives them a grin as he bites into his burger, chewing and swallowing before he speaks, “So Dean, you said you worked at Bobby’s Auto, right? How long have you been there?”

Dean starts to answer, and Castiel’s struck by such a fondness, he can’t resist the urge to reach out and grab Dean’s hand under the table. The eldest Winchester fumbles a little with his words, and Castiel squeezes his hand. He sees Dean look his way out of the corner of his eye, and Cas lets go to reach for his food.

He blames the blush that spreads across his cheeks on the burger.

Chuck and Dean quickly find a mutual appreciation of vinyl records, and as they load the dishes into the dishwasher, Chuck tells him that he must stay a little longer so they can dive into his collection. Which is how Castiel finds himself on the couch, next to Dean, as his father dusts off an old record with a victorious cry of, “Found it!”

He can’t make out the album title, but as soon as the vinyl hits the record playing and the arm presses against it, Castiel recognizes it. It’s the album that played on a loop the months following his mother’s death. His father pulls up the arm, moving it farther down the inside of the record before dropping it.

The familiar notes of The Beatles, “Yesterday,” flood the room, and Chuck smiles. It’s a bittersweet smile, full of longing and nostalgia, and it makes Castiel’s heart ache. He doesn’t remember his mother very well, and Chuck rarely speaks of her, but Castiel knows this was her favorite album.

“This was our wedding song, you know.” His father says. “Not a common choice, but your mother loved it, and I didn’t have to heart to tell her no. But she was right, it was a song meant for dancing.”

Dean’s hand disappears from his thigh, and he’s standing up, rounding towards Cas. He holds out his hand, palm side up, and Castiel looks at him.

“Dance with me.”

“What?” Castiel asks. There’s no way he heard right.

“You heard your dad. It’s a song meant for dancing. So dance with me.”

His father’s looking at them with that same soft smile, and Dean’s eyes are full of joy and there’s no sign of any of the walls he surrounds himself with, and Castiel can’t say no. He places his hand in Dean’s, and allows the older man to pull him up.

_ Yesterday all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they’re here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday. _

Dean pulls him out further into the middle of the living room, letting one hand come to sit on Castiel’s hip, while the other holds his hand out to the side. Cas follows his lead, reaching up to curl his hand alongside Dean’s neck. The music floods the room and Dean pulls Castiel closer. The song is so melancholy, old and rich in a way music these days can’t compare to, and he follows the mood of the song and let’s his head drop onto Dean’s shoulder.

_ Suddenly, I’m not half the man I used to be. There’s a shadow hanging over me. Oh, yesterday came suddenly. _

It’s not much of a dance, more of a soft sway, but Dean’s here and so close and Castiel never wants it to end. Dean’s hand travels further up to the small of his back, his head dropping against the top of Castiel’s in a way that feels more intimate than the entirety of the kisses they’ve shared.

_ Why she had to go? I don’t know, she wouldn’t say. I said something wrong. Now I long for yesterday. _

He takes a chance, pulling back just a little to look up at Dean. He finds the older man already looking back at him, his eyes shining just a little and a soft, bittersweet smile on his face. There is a vulnerability to him that Castiel’s never seen, something he thinks many people don’t get the chance to witness, and he wishes he could bottle up this feeling and store it forever.

_ Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe in yesterday. _

Never has he felt like this. He’s spent years pining after Sam, hugging Sam, slow dancing with Sam at their prom, sharing his secrets and emotions with Sam, but he’s never felt like this. He’s never shared this intimacy with him before, never felt entirely close and confident and cared for.

_ Why she had to go? I don’t know, she wouldn’t say. I said something wrong. Now I long for yesterday. _

Dean’s looking at him like he’s the only person in the world, and he feels like it. For a moment, as Dean’s body shifts against his, his eyes soft and lips softer, Castiel’s fears and insecurities fly away. It’s just him and Dean, swaying to the Beatles in his living room. What they’re doing is innocent, something they could do on live television or show to Castiel’s preacher, but it feels like something so much more than that. It feels like their relationship is changing with each breath McCartney takes, that each time Castiel shifts, they’re drawing closer to some inevitable conclusion.

_ Yesterday love was such an easy game to play. Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe in yesterday. _

He wants nothing more than to stay here forever. To have Dean’s eyes on him, to have Dean look at him like that forever. He wants to be close to him, to know that Dean’s here and he’s not going - at least not yet. He’s spent so long searching for stability, so long dreading the idea of giving up the comfortable staple he’s founded here, but he thinks that he would give it all away in a second if it meant that he could stay here, in Dean’s arms, for just a moment longer.

_Mm mm mm mm mm mm mm._

The dreaded humming fills the room, and Castiel wishes the song would continue playing. He’s comfortable, and his heart is filled to the brim with overflowing joy and contentedness. When the chords draw to a close, he knows it will be different, he knows Dean will pull away again just as he knows he, too, will pull away. But for this moment, as the chords begin to softly die out, Castiel can imagine what it would be like if it didn’t.

When the music finally stops and the beginnings of, “Dizzy Miss Lizzy” begin playing, Castiel pulls away, keeping his hand wrapped around Dean’s shoulder as the older man brushes their foreheads together.

He shouldn’t be surprised. This thing between them has been brewing for days, ever since that first kiss in the upstairs room of the Winchester house. As much as he denied it, Castiel thinks he’s always known. Whatever’s happening between them, standing in his living room listening to Lennon and McCartney croon, it was inevitable.

Dean leans down, his mouth brushing against Castiel’s ear, “Come on, we should pick another record.”

He swallows the dry lump in his throat and nods, releasing himself from Dean’s grasp, and turning to find his father’s seat vacated. He’s kind of embarrassed for subjecting his father to such an intimate moment, but he can’t be bothered enough to care. Cas brushes off an old record he recognizes and holds it up for Dean’s inspection.

The older man smiles, bumping his hip against Castiel’s, and taking Zeppelin II from his hands.

He walks Dean to his car two hours later, after they’ve successfully exhausted a couple of Chuck’s records. Dean pulls him into a quick hug before he climbs in Baby, it’s nothing near their impromptu dance session, but it’s still the warm press of his body against Castiel’s and a display of affection nonetheless.

“We’ll have to finish those movies another time,” Dean says through the window, as Castiel stands outside, pulling his shirt sleeves around his hands.

“Of course,” He replies, “Thanks for coming tonight, Dean.”

“I’m glad I did. I had a good time.”

He thinks back to the feel of Dean’s hand in his own, “Me too.”

Dean’s smile is almost nostalgic as he puts the car in reverse, “Goodnight Castiel.”

“Goodnight.”

Cas watches Baby pull out of the driveway, and for some reason, the air feels colder around him.

He makes his way back inside, finding his father collecting the records and returning them to their cases. “Did Dean head out?” His father asks without turning around.

Castiel takes a seat beside the speakers and curls in on himself, “He did.”

“That was some dance you boys had.”

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Castiel tells him, “And I know it’s a bad idea, but I can’t help how I feel.”

Chuck finally looks up at him, eyebrow arched, “I wasn’t going to say it’s a bad idea.”

“You weren’t?”

“I wasn’t.” Chuck tells him, “I was just going to say that the way you boys danced? Well, I couldn’t have recreated my wedding dance with your mother any better.”

His father had loved his wife completely and without hesitation. If Castiel wanted to search for prove of soulmates, he’d find it in his parents. His aunt Amara had told him in the years following Castiel’s mother’s death, Chuck was nothing like the man he was before. It was like an entire half of his soul had been ripped out. To this day, he’s yet to date anyone else.

He doesn’t talk about her either. Castiel knows the basics. He knows how they met, when they were married, how she died, but that’s about it. Chuck longs for her in a way that Castiel can’t imagine. It’s been years and he still has days where the sadness consuming him is too much. He’ll stay in his room, sleeping on her side of the bed, her perfume in the air as the Beatles play softly on repeat.

They had the kind of love that is rare. The kind of love that happens once in a lifetime, and only to those that are the most deserving. It’s the kind of love that is irrevocable, absolute, and resolute.

And for Chuck to compare the dance shared between him and Dean to the dance shared between two people that are that in love? Well, Castiel really doesn’t know what to make of it.

“Get some sleep, we can talk more in the morning.” Chuck tells him, his eyes firmly fixed on the mantle.

“Goodnight dad.”

“Goodnight Castiel.”

He leaves the living room, stopping just outside to take one last look at his dad. Chuck stands there in front of the record player, hand ghosting across the sole picture of Cas’ mother that is framed on the mantle. He looks morose and bittersweet, but there’s a resigned kind of happiness on the tilt of his lips.

Castiel turns and begins to climb the stairs.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chuck ships it. 
> 
> The song Cas and Dean dance to is "Yesterday" by the Beatles (A personal favorite of mine). If you haven't listened to it, I recommend.
> 
> *Cue the spiral*


	10. Monday, April 22nd Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a little something I like to call, "The Spiral". Pretty much means everything goes to shit!
> 
> Also wow look at that. 50,000 words. Hard to believe this started as a <8000 word oneshot. I just wanted to thank everyone that's read, left a comment, and encouraged me to keep writing. Thank you so much!!
> 
> Two chapters left, and keep in mind that it's not a lasciviouspeach original if there's not a happy ending. So I promise, things will work out. 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! I love getting to read your comments :)

“It’s all about the proportions.” Gabriel tells him, his face the picture of concentration as he stirs a mixture in a large ceramic bowl, “Too many eggs and the consistency won’t be hard enough to set up in the oven.”

Castiel sits on the cabinet, twirling his phone between his leg and nods. “And if it doesn’t set up?”

Gabriel gives him a pained expression, very much like a professor whose kids just don’t grasp the concept, “If it doesn’t set up, there’s no reason to even bother making it because it will taste like shit.”

“Right.”

Gabriel sprinkles a mixture of spices into the bowl, whisk twirling as he blends the ingredients together. “Honestly Cas, you’re hopeless. Why do you even want to learn how to bake anyways?”

There’s a small flush on his cheeks when he replies, “No reason, just figured it’s a good skill to learn.”

His brother’s lips curve into a smirk. “Yeah okay, and it definitely doesn’t have anything to do with Grumpy Winchester’s sweet tooth, does it?”

Somehow, his flush growing deeper, “Fuck off.”

Gabriel’s jolt of laughter is interrupted by the buzzing of Castiel’s phone against the cabinet below him. It makes him jump, and Cas’ lips twitch when he reads the screen.

Incoming Call: Dean:)

“Speak of the devil,” He says to no one but himself. Castiel picks his phone up, swiping his finger across the screen and holding it up to his ear.

“Hello?” He asks, watching as Gabriel pours the dough onto the table and sprinkles it with flour.

“Hey Cas. Whatcha up to?”

“Sitting in my kitchen about to kill Gabriel, so nothing out of the ordinary. What are you doing?”

He hears Dean’s laugh through the phone and he’s not expecting the onslaught of butterflies that spread through his stomach, into his chest, and leave his fingers tingling.

“Well Baby needed to get out of my parking lot, so I’m out cruising. Was going to go to the spot and thought I’d see if you wanted to tag along?”

He takes one look at Gabriel kneading the dough on the table and says, “Yes please, I need out of the house.”

“Okay cool. I’m about five minutes away. Does that give you enough time or should I do a loop?”

“Five is plenty. I just have to leave a note for my dad.”

“Alright, I’ll text when I pull up.”

“Okay, see you in a few.”

He hangs up and ignores the knowing look Gabe sends over his shoulder. He grabs a sticky note from the countertop and jots down a few words before sticking it below his father’s note on the fridge.

If I said studying, would you believe me? (Going to a party in St. Caldwells with Ames) - Anna

Working late again. Money’s on my desk if you need it. Gabe, don’t burn the house down.- Dad

Going out with Dean, going to be back later! - Cas

He smiles at the thought of “going out with Dean”, and turns to find Gabriel looking at him once more, his hands resting on his mound of dough that sits on the table.

“You’re seriously ditching baking lessons to hang out with Dean?”

Castiel pulls on his jacket from where it sat beside the table. “I’ll only be gone for a bit. Pie probably won’t even be ready for the oven by the time I get back.”

Gabriel only raises an eyebrow.

“Gabe, please. After last night, I need to see him.”

“You fuck him last night or something?”

“What?” Cas says, “No, of course I didn’t.”

“Then why do you need to see him?

He shifts on his feet, uncomfortable with the shifting of the topic. “We just had a moment or something, and I want to make sure things haven’t changed.”

Gabriel narrows his eyes, looking at Castiel for a moment before he relents, “Okay, whatever. You know I’m bad with time, so if the pies burn then that’s on you.”

“Love you,” He says, flicking Gabe’s ear as his phone chimes in his pocket.

Dean:) (7:02 PM): About to pull up.

“See you later. Don’t burn down the house.” He calls as he pushes open the front door, escaping Gabe’s scathing look for the silence of the growing night.

Not two seconds after he shuts the door behind him, the purr of the Impala reaches his ears. He turns on instinct, watching as Dean maneuvers the car into its rightful spot in his driveway. It’s the same spot he parked last night, and the thought sends a whole new wave of butterflies through his stomach.

He walks to the passenger side, keeping his gait slow so he doesn’t give away his excitement. Dropping into the passenger seat, he smiles at Dean, who smiles back.

“Hey there.” Castiel says, watching the way Dean’s eyes follow the curve of his nose before settling on his eyes.

“Hey yourself.”

“Thanks for saving me,” Cas tells him. “Gabriel was about to drive me insane before you called.”

“Well I’m glad I could be of service.”

Castiel leans further back in his seat, the silence between them comfortable, and listens to the sound of Creedence Clearwater Revival flooding from the speakers.

He leans his head against the backrest, watching as the spring Kansas landscape passes by outside the window. Spring is without a doubt his favorite season. There’s something soothing about the days and nights that pass by. It’s never too hot or too cold. The days are warm enough for shorts, but the nights offer a chilly reprieve that brings back memories of the fall.

As the fields pass them by, Castiel allows himself to relax further into the seat. When they pull up to the familiar spot from before, he’s surprised by how different it looks in the day. It’s still a sanctuary, but it’s somehow more beautiful. The sun is low in the sky, casting the field and the lake in hues of its summer lights.

Castiel opens his door and steps out into the fresh country air. He hasn’t been out here since the last time he went cruising with Dean, and he has to say he’s missed the silence. The air is still around them, only a few ripples in the lake, and the sun is warm on his skin.

“If I’m being honest, there’s a reason I asked you to come tonight.” Dean says from where he’s lounging against Baby’s hood.

He turns to look over his shoulder at Dean, who looks relaxed and comfortable. “Sounds ominous. You’re not going to kill me and hide my body in the lake, are you?”

Dean snorts, ““No, I’m not,” Dean tells him, “I just wanted to talk to you about something.”

He gives one last look at the lake before him, and joins Dean on the hood. The older man looks serious, which causes some panic to float through his stomach.

There’s no way he knows about Cas’ revelation, right?

“Okay?”

Dean finally looks up at him, his face betraying nothing, “I think you should tell Sam.”

And, oh. That really wasn’t what he was expecting.

“Dean,” Castiel says, “We’ve had this talk like thirty times.”

“I know, and that’s why I came prepared this time.”

“You prepared?”

“I did,” Dean says, “I have a whole argument.”

Castiel huffs out a reluctant laugh. Leave it to Dean to only prepare something when it’s to make a point.

“Before you give your argument, can I ask - once more - why you’re so hellbent on me telling him?”

Dean looks down at the glossy hood of Baby. “I know how much it tears you up to not know, and I know that you want to know if he feels the same way. I think if you tell him, you’ll finally get the closure you need.”

And once again, Dean has a really good answer. Castiel looks at him, sees nothing but genuineness in his features, and sighs. It’s sweet that Dean’s concerned for his mental wellbeing, and he’s got a good point. The pressure of keeping his secrets from Sam has been taking a toll on him.

He motions to Dean with his hand and says, “Alright. Hit me with what you’ve got.”

“Number One: You’ve already kissed. The whole reason you were afraid to tell him in the first place was because you were scared to kiss him, and you’ve already done it and you said yourself it was a good kiss.”

“Point taken.”

“Number two: Worst case scenario, he says no. It can’t get any worse than that. We both know he isn’t going to up and ditch you just because you like him.”

Castiel nods.

“Number three: Not telling him is the same as lying, and I know you hate being a liar.”

“Touche.” Castiel deadpans.

“Last and not least, number four: He’s your best friend, and he deserves to know. I mean you’ve been keeping this from him-”

His phone vibrates as Dean’s speaking and he quickly checks it.

Sam (7:46PM): Hey do you still have my science book?

He types out a quick reply, only half listening to the rest of Dean’s point.

To Sam (7:47PM): I do! I’m with Anna at the mall, but you can drop by and pick it up! Gabriel’s there.

He feels a little bad for lying, but it’s better than answering the questions Sam would, no doubt, have if he knew what Cas was actually doing.

Sam (7:47PM): Okay! Thanks Cas!

“I just really think you should tell him, Cas.” Dean says, and Castiel looks up at the sun starting to slip beneath the horizon.  
  


//

Sam gets to the Novak house around eight-thirty. He knocks twice, the familiar wooden door creaking under his palm.

Gabriel is the one who answers the door.

“Hey Sam,” Gabriel says, before turning around and walking in the direction of the kitchen. Sam stares after him, confused, before entering the Novak house. He follows after Gabriel, intent on asking if he knows where Cas left his things. When he enters the kitchen, the smell of burnt something assaults his nose. He sees Gabriel standing over the stove, staring at a plate of charred masses, like staring is going to uncook them.

“Hey do you know where Cas left my science book?” He asks and Gabriel turns around a flashes him a smirk.

“Can’t say I do, hot stuff.” He purrs, “Have you checked his room?”

“Not yet, but I figured that’s my first look. What are you making?”

He doesn’t ask what he’s trying to make.

“A couple pies. I found a new recipe, but I think I forgot to add the milk and butter.”

He doesn’t ask how that’s something you can leave out. Sam watches Gabe toss the tray into the sink. “Hey Samwhich, mind making yourself useful and getting the milk from the fridge?”

“Sure,” He replies, because he figures Gabe can use all the help he can get.

He pulls the fridge open and grabs the milk carton from the side door. When he shuts it, his eyes catch on the three sticky notes stuck to the door. Sam smiles, always having loved the Novak’s sticky note system, and lets his eyes run over the words.

_If I said studying, would you believe me? (Going to a party in St. Caldwells with Ames) - Anna_

_Working late again. Money’s on my desk if you need it. Gabe, don’t burn the house down. - Dad_

_Going out with Dean, going to be back later! - Cas_

His eyes catch on the last one.

What?

He looks back at Anna’s note, the one that says she’s at a party in St. Caldwells. His eyes dart back to Castiel’s. So not only was his best friend hanging out with his brother, but Cas was also lying to him about it.

He thinks back to the brushoff Dean had given him earlier, saying he had something he had to take care of with Bella.

So not only are his best friend and his brother hanging out, but they’re both lying to him about it. Their secrecy does nothing but confirm the suspicions that Sam already has, the ones that have been growing for several days now.

He thinks about the person Castiel was messaging when they went to see Pet Sematary. The way Dean’s always smiling at his phone and hiding the screen. He had thought Dean was texting Bella again and didn’t want him to worry, but now he’s thinking differently. He thinks about the way Dean and Cas acted when Cas came over to marathon the Avengers movies. The way Cas and Dean acted at the party. The way Dean had pulled him into a hug after they won at beer pong, the way it seemed so natural - like they had done it before.

Standing there, looking at that sticky note, Sam finally realizes. This has been going on for awhile. It wasn’t an overnight occurrence, they’ve been sneaking around behind his back for days, if not weeks. He’s not mad, but there’s a bubbling sense of hurt in his chest.

He doesn’t know who he’s more upset with: Dean, Cas, or himself for being so damn obvious.

“You alright, man?” Gabe asks, pulling him from his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Sam replies, handing him the milk. “See you later.”

He’s out the door before he realizes he didn’t even get his science book.

//

“Maybe you should practice?” Dean supplies, trying his best to be helpful as Castiel stares unblinking at the ground.

“What?"

“Maybe you should practice what you want to say. It wouldn’t be the first time planning ahead offered you a little comfort.” Dean adds on, and Castiel realizes he’s right.

He never would have felt comfortable enough to play spin the bottle at Ruby’s, alcohol or no alcohol, if he hadn’t practiced before hand. It was because he already had his first kiss, and because Dean assured him it was good, that he felt anywhere near confident enough to play.

“Maybe you’re right.” He replies, a little hesitant. Practicing telling someone you like them is one thing, but practicing on someone you actually like? Sounds like a recipe for disaster.

Dean gives him a comforting smile, “Come on, just pretend I’m Sam.”

The thing about it is, he doesn’t have to pretend. He can just imagine what it’d be like to confess the growing feelings he has for Dean and achieve the same results.

“Okay,” Castiel says slowly, eyes finally looking back to Dean. He looks beautiful in the hues of the evening, eyes looking golden in the last few rays of sunlight that fall upon them.

“There’s something you should know,” Castiel starts, taking a deep breath, “It’s unfair that I haven’t told you yet, but I need to know that you won’t be angry with me.”

Dean’s eyes are soft when he replies, “Cas, you know you can tell me anything.”

He licks his lips, looking away from the complex colors in Dean’s eyes, “I’ve, uh, had these feelings for awhile, and I think it’s time you found out.”

“Cas, just tell me.” He sounds so genuine, like he actually wants to know, and Castiel finally finds the words.

“I’m in love with you.”

Dean’s looking at him, eyes unblinking, and Castiel almost wishes Dean knew he wasn’t pretending he was Sam anymore. He wishes Dean could fucking put it together and save him the misery.

Dean looks sad for a moment, contemplative, before the frown disappears and he gives Cas a smile, “That was really good. I think that’s all you really need to say, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Castiel agrees, “Now, to find the time to tell him.”

His phone vibrates and Castiel freezes when he reads it.

Sam (8:47PM): We need to talk.

The message startles him, makes him wonder what Sam could have possibly found in his room that would warrant such a message. But, after hearing Dean’s argument, Castiel couldn’t agree with the message more. Maybe it’s a sign from the universe or something, urging them together so Cas can finally spill.

He shows the message to Dean with a small smile, “Looks like tonight.”

“You want to go now?”

“Better make it soon or I’ll lose my nerve.”

Dean slides off the front of the Impala and opens the driver side door. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” Castiel tells him as he rounds near the side of the car, “Like you said, it’s about time Sam found out.”

He crawls into the passenger seat, and sends a quick reply.

Sam (8:49PM): I agree. I’ll be at your house in 20.

Dean drops him back off at his house, and Castiel clambers out of the car in an effort to not be late. Dean’s window is down and he gives Castiel a tight smile.

“Good luck.”

Cas smiles at him, waving, “Thanks for everything.”

He watches Dean pull out of the driveway, and climbs into his own car. He gets to the Winchester’s house in less than ten minutes, and stands in front of their front door for three before he can finally summon enough courage to enter.

Part of him wonders if this is the right move. Should he really confess his feelings to Sam considering he just found out he’s got the same feelings for Sam’s older brother.

He reminds himself that Dean isn’t interested, never could be, so there’s no reason to bother telling him. Sam, on the other hand, has the capacity to return his feelings. And Sam’s his best friend. Like Dean said, he deserves to know.

He opens the door. When he walks in the Winchester house, all the lights are off except those in the dining room. The house is silent, almost eerily silent, and it causes the tightness in his stomach to shift. The stillness of the house is in direct juxtaposition to the nerves jumping around in his chest, and he has to stop and take a calming breath before he can follow the lights.

Sam’s sitting in the dining room in John’s usual chair, a mug of coffee steaming in front of it. Castiel stands in the shadows for a moment, just observing it, and notices that Sam doesn’t touch the coffee.

He’s beginning to doubt himself. Maybe Sam has already figured out his secret and is here to confront him about it. Maybe he was wrong and this was going to be a bad conversation. Dean’s words echo in his head, and Castiel realizes that he’s done hiding. He’s done fighting. It’s about time Sam found out.

He enters the kitchen, sitting down in the seat diagonal to Sam.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, once a moment has passed and Sam still hasn’t looked at him.

The man nods and Castiel’s heart rate decreases slightly.

“Before I say anything, I want to tell you that I’m not mad.” Sam tells him, and Castiel’s brow furrows. What about him having feelings for Sam would piss Sam off? He never once thought Sam would be mad about it, just thought it’d be awkward.

“Before I say anything, can I just go first?”

Sam looks up, eyes showing his surprise, and nods.

“There is something you should know, although it seems like you might already,” Castiel starts, taking a deep breath, “It’s unfair that I haven’t told you yet, but I needed to know that you wouldn’t be angry with me.”

“I’m not angry, I promise.”

“Well, I’ve had these feelings for awhile, and I know it’s time you found out. I was just so scared that you wouldn’t understand, or that you’d cut me off.”

“If you would have told me, you’d know I don’t care. I just don’t understand why you don’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you-”

“Then why not tell me you were dating Dean?”

He stops cold. “What?”

Sam’s eyebrow raises, “You’re dating Dean, and neither of you told me.”

“What are you talking about? Why would you think I’m dating Dean?”

“You’re not dating?” Sam clarifies, his confusion evident in the furrow between his brows.

“No, of course I’m not dating Dean.”

“Oh,” Sam says, “I mean, I know you lied to me about being with Anna tonight, and I accidentally saw your sticky note when I dropped by to get my book. It’s just, with the way you’ve been acting around each other, I assumed.”

“We’ve been hanging out, but I promise I’m not dating your brother.”

Not like Dean would ever want to anyway.

Sam’s quiet for a moment, before he speaks again, “If you weren’t talking about Dean, what were you talking about?”

Castiel swallows around the dryness in his throat.

This is it. This is the moment that’s been building for the past two and a half years, ever since he finally figured out what the butterflies in his stomach meant. This is his white whale, his coup de grace, his whatever other shitty metaphor you can come up with.

He takes a deep breath and says it.

“I’m in love with you.”

Sam blinks.

“And I know this might be hard to hear, but I have to get it off my chest. I’ve felt this way for a long time, for years, and I just can’t keep it from you anymore.”

Sam looks crestfallen. “Cas, I-”

“Just, promise me this won’t change things. Promise me you won’t abandon me. If you wouldn’t leave me when you thought I was dating Dean, please don’t leave me for something I can’t control.”

Sam goes quiet, his eyes soft as he looks at Cas. Slowly, he reaches his hand across the table until it rests against Cas’ own. He watches Sam swallow and he already knows where this is going.

“You’re my best friend, and nothing will ever change that. But you should know that I don’t feel that way about you. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I can’t.”

He takes a moment to gather himself. The disappointment in his chest isn’t anything near what he was expecting, and for that he’s grateful.

“It’s okay,” Castiel tells him. And it is. Cas, of all people, knows that you can’t pick who you love.

He allows Sam’s hand to stay pressed against his own as he continues, “I mean, I’m not saying I’m not disappointed, but Dean was right. I had to tell you.”

Sam’s face screws up.

“What?” Castiel says with the beginnings of a smile, “Didn’t think your brother could give good advice?”

“Dean told you to tell me?”

“Yeah, kept going on and on about it. Just tonight he finally convinced me.”

Sam’s never been good at hiding his emotions, and Cas knows the second he says that there’s something wrong.

“What?”

“It’s nothing,”

“Sam, what?”

“It’s nothing, I’m sure he had a reason, I just-”

“Sam,” Castiel interrupts him again, “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

His friend goes quiet, not looking at Castiel as he obviously tries to work through whether or not to tell him. A moment later, he speaks, but his voice is strained, “Dean knew.”

“Dean knew what?”

Sam licks his lips before continuing, “He knew how I felt about you, or, well, how I didn’t. He asked me about a month ago if I’d consider being anything other than just friends, and I told him no. I told him I didn’t see you like that.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water drenches him.

“What?” He asks, his shock obvious in his voice, “What do you mean he knew?”

“Cas-”

“You’re telling me he’s known this entire time that when I told you, you were going to reject me?” Castiel continues as if Sam hadn’t spoken, his voice taking on a hint of desperation, “You’re telling me he’s known for a month and didn’t tell me, but - instead of giving me a warning - he kept pushing me to confess to you.”

It’s like everything he thought he knew about Dean has been turned upside down. Dean wasn’t trying to help him. He wasn’t trying to find closure for Castiel, because he already knew what the answer would be. He knew the entire time. Every time he pushed for Castiel to tell, he knew exactly what would happen when he did.

He pushes back from the table, the chair sliding against the floor with a loud squeak.

“Cas-”

“Don’t.” Castiel says, “I’m not mad at you. I’m not upset with you.”

“You don’t have to leave yet.” Sam tells him and Castiel shakes his head.

“I’m going home.”

He turns, heading towards the door before Sam can say something that will make him want to stay. Just as he’s exiting the door, he hears Sam yell.

“I’m sure he had a reason.”

The drive back to his house is a blur. If Dean hadn’t been trying to give him closure, then what exactly did he get from Cas telling Sam? There’s a voice in the back of his mind, one that sounds suspiciously like his cousin Luke, that whispers, “Why not?”

And deep down Castiel knows. He knows why Dean did it. It’s the same reason Dean dated Olivia Cornderson in high school - when he was popular and she was a friendless nobody. It’s the same reason he dumped her in the middle of school and humiliated her. He did it for his own entertainment. And it’s the same reason he’s been playing Cas since the beginning.

Everything between them, every hug and kiss and meaningful stare, it was all part of his game. He had known Sam would reject Cas, and he hadn’t cared. He wonders how much joy Dean’s gotten out of him. How many times he’s laughed with his friends about how stupid Castiel is. About how pathetic he is.

And to think Castiel thought that he might love Dean, and he wondered - for the smallest of seconds - if Dean could love him back.

Castiel breaks hard, flipping on his turn signal and turning onto Main Street.

He wasn’t going home, but he was going to get answers.


	11. Monday, April 22nd Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left!! Let me know what you think?
> 
> Also I have some deleted scenes and scenes from Dean's POV that got cut from this story, and I was thinking about making this a series and posting them too. Would that be something y'all might be interested in reading?

Castiel hoped that the drive might calm him down. On any other day, in any other situation, it might have. But now, the longer he sits in the car with his foot pressed against the peddle, the more angry he gets.

He had given Dean too much credit, and he was paying for it. God, he feels so stupid. Here he had been thinking Dean was on his side. He thought that the older Winchester was more than the rumors surrounding him, that he was deeper than all the bullshit stories Castiel had heard.

But he wasn’t.

He had known the entire time. He had countless opportunities, from the first time they kissed until tonight at the spot, that he could have put Castiel out of his misery. And it’s not like there’s a reason he couldn’t have told him. Dean letting Cas down before he told Sam would have done nothing but help both Sam and Castiel in the long run. It would have saved them the conversation that almost destroyed Cas and made Sam feel like shit.

And Sam might be convinced that Dean had some reason to keep this from him, but Cas isn’t.

By the time he pulls into the parking lot behind Dean’s apartment, his body is vibrating from the rage that curls through his veins. He feels hot, like his clothes are too tight, and Castiel knows before he even sets foot inside the apartment complex, that this conversation will not go as well as the one he had with Sam.

The outside door slams behind him, and Castiel pushes forward into the lobby. He takes the stairs, adrenaline and anger giving him the push he needs up the stairs. As he rounds the corner, he sees the bright 24 shining on Dean’s door, and without thought, he pushes at the handle. It’s unlocked, and he enters without the least concern if Dean knows he’s coming or not.

He steps into Dean’s apartment, and it’s the same as it was days ago. That thought somehow makes him angrier. All the shit Dean said to him at the party and after when they were curled up in his bed? They were just like the rest of Dean’s words. They were all bullshit.

He sees Dean sitting on the couch and slams the door behind him. The sound echos through the room and makes Dean look up from his laptop. He can tell by the look on the eldest Winchester’s face that he knows something’s wrong. 

“Everything okay?” Dean says, voice knowing it is, indeed, not okay.

Castiel looks up, trying and failing to control the emotions that are present on his face. “No Dean, everything is not okay.”

“Do you want to talk about it?"

If he was thinking straight, he’d be surprised that Dean is offering him the chance to vent. But since he’s not, all he can think about is how good it would feel to slap that fake concerned look from his face.

“I hope you’re happy.” Castiel says, tears building behind his eyes but he blinks them away. He will not cry; his tears would just add to Dean’s amusement. “I was actually starting to believe you were more than what people said about you, but you’re not. You’re really not.”

“Castiel,” Dean says, voice low and confused. Dean never calls him his full name. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I feel so stupid. I believed in you. I trusted you, and the whole time you were just playing with me. Waiting for me to make a fool out of myself in front of Sam.”

Dean, honestly, seems to not be following and Castiel lets out a bitter laugh. He’s such a damn good actor. He doesn’t blame himself for not realizing he was being played sooner. Dean deserves a fucking Oscar for this performance.

“I told him.” He says.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up. “You told Sam?”

“Yeah, and he doesn’t feel the same way. I don’t know why I need to tell you that, though, considering you already knew. Considering you’ve known, and you’ve known for a long time.”

“Cas.”

“What were you aiming for? Just biding your time until I could tell him and you could laugh about it? Laugh about how pathetic I was?”

“It was never like that.”

“I cannot believe this.” Castiel says, voice growing hysterical with the emotions that threaten to consume him, “You kept pushing me to tell him, and the whole time you knew he’d turn me down. You knew and yet you didn’t tell me. You didn’t warn me. You said you wanted me to have closure, and that was bullshit. Because you knew, and you could have told me.”

“I’m sorry, Cas, you have to believe me I-”

“I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to hear whatever pathetic excuse you have. I don’t want to hear whatever horrific justification you want to use. You knew, and you didn’t tell me. Hell, you kept pushing me to tell him so I could get rejected. You manipulated me for your own selfish and sick amusement. I really hope you’re happy. I hope you got the laugh you wanted, because no one has ever made me feel as low as I do right now.”

“Cas please,” Dean says, again, voice taking on a tone of desperation. But it’s an act. It was all an act, and Castiel had been so stupid, so blinded by his new found crush that he fell into his part willingly.

“I’m not mad that Sam rejected me. Hell, I’m not even hurt. But this, what you did to me, God I’m so fucking mad. You’re exactly what everyone has always said you were. You twist and manipulate people for your own private show, and I’m done.” He says, voice finally finding the calm coldness he needs to get through this, “I can’t believe you would do this to me. I can’t believe you would do this to anyone, and I never, ever, want to see you again. I hope you enjoyed laughing about my misery, because I’m just done.”

His voice cracks just a little on the last word, and he’s worried that the whole facade he’s hiding behind will crumble with it. Because he is mad, but it’s more than that. He’s fucking hurt.

But he doesn’t leave yet. There’s a part of him that hopes Sam was right; that Dean has some really good reason for not telling him, and that even after all the shit Castiel threw at him, Dean still cares about him enough to explain.

So he stays, arms hanging by his side as he looks at Dean. He waits there, gives Dean a chance to explain, but an explanation doesn’t come. Dean just keeps looking back at him, his face the picture of desperation and his eyes pleading. But nothing except an apology and an explanation can fill the gaping hole in his chest.

“I really hope you get your shit together,” Castiel says and his voice quivers, “Because Sam deserves a brother that’s better than this.”

He turns on his heels, unable to look at the crestfallen look on Dean’s face and leaves before he can do something stupid, like kiss it off his face.

The door shuts with a click behind him, and with it, the anger he feels drains out of his body. There’s still a part of him, a pathetic part, that wants Dean to come after him. A part that wants to feel the warmth of Dean’s body as he hugs Castiel and whispers a good enough explanation.

But Castiel doesn’t think anything Dean has to say would be good enough.

He walks to his car, exhaustion quickly filing in after the anger dispels, and he sits there for a moment with his head resting against the steering wheel. God, he just wants to go home and go to sleep. To forget about Dean fucking Winchester for a moment.

He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking lot.

His body is numb by the time he pulls into the driveway, and if he were a little more focused, he might notice the car parked next to his own. It doesn’t register, though, and he climbs out of the car and into the house. It’s late, Anna’s still at the party, and a glance in the kitchen reveals that Gabriel must be asleep. He climbs the stairs to his bedroom slowly, his body lagging and his mind too exhausted to make him walk any faster. It’s as he pushes his door open that he notices the man sitting on his bed.

“Hey,” Sam says, his voice soft.

He watches Sam stand from his bed and walk closer, and Cas hiccups a sob as he looks at his best friend. Sam's face is soft and concerned, his arms open. Cas just wants someone to tell him he will be okay, and that this feeling in his chest is just disappointment and that it’ll go away. He drops, head first, into Sam’s chest as another sob forces itself from his body. He’s just so fucking tired of being disappointed. His friend’s arms come up to wrap around his body, pulling him closer to his chest and holding him there. A few tears escape from Castiel’s eyes and run down his cheeks, leaving small splotches on Sam’s shirt. Cas wraps his arms around Sam and holds on tight as the whirlwind of emotions splay through his chest and stomach. There’s betrayal, and anger, and so much fucking hurt.

“Why don’t we lay down and talk?” Sam asks eventually, after Castiel feels his cheeks start to dry.

He nods, releasing himself from Sam’s grasp and climbing up to the headboard. He lays his head on one of his pillows, and it smells faintly of Dean’s cologne. His chest aches and he curls his fingers around a spare pillow as Sam lays down next to him.

“I came over and you weren’t here.” Sam starts quietly, “I was getting worried.”

“‘m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be. The reason you’re so upset, is it- is it because of me?”

He shakes his head no. He is disappointed that Sam doesn’t return his feelings, but that disappointment is over masked by the feelings he has regarding the new revelation about Dean.

“I went to see Dean,” He says, and his voice sounds hoarse. He’s still not looking at Sam, but keeps his eyes on the ceiling.

“Oh,” Sam replies, “Is that why you’re upset?”

Castiel blinks at the ceiling. “I don’t understand why he would keep this from me.”

“I don’t know either, Cas, but I know Dean and he’s a lot of thinks but he isn’t cruel.”

A sharp laugh breaks from his throat, “Yeah that’s bullshit. You think I don’t remember Olivia Cornderson? We were young, but everyone talked about that.”

Sam’s quiet for a moment, and when Castiel looks at him, his face is scrunched up.

“You must remember. They dated for a month and then he dumped her the week before school let out, and she was humiliated? It’s literally the only thing people were talking about.”

“Olivia Cornder- What? Cas that was years ago? And it wasn’t like that.”

“So he _didn’t_ date her just to humiliate her?”

“No, Cas, of course he didn’t.” Sam says, his inflection just a little more forceful, and Cas has to remind himself that this is Sam’s brother they’re talking about. 

“Then what was it like?” He asks, desperate for proof that Dean isn’t the bad guy he thinks he is.

“You remember what it was like for her? She talked to no one and hated her life. This school was hell for her, but her parents said having no friends was different from being bullied, and wouldn’t let her transfer. She met Dean at a bar a couple months before school let out, back when he had to use his fake, and they started talking. She thought if she could give her parents a reason, they’d let her transfer in the fall.”

Castiel stays quiet although he thinks he knows where this is going.

“So Dean pretended to date her and then dumped her before school let out. She was in on it, Cas. And her parents, they let her transfer. But Dean wasn’t being cruel, he was helping her. They’re still friends, man. He just went out to lunch with her the other day.”

All at once, he feels incredibly shitty. He had said a lot of shit to Dean, and while most of it was warranted, he still feels like he might have been a little harsh.

“That seems a little extreme.”

Sam chuckles softly next to him, the bed shaking with his shoulders, “It was, but you know how high school is. She thought she was out of options, and she just needed out.”

“I just don’t know why he would lie.”

“I wish I could answer that for you,” Sam tells him, “I wish I could make things better. You don’t deserve to feel like this.”

“I’m just tired.”

He finally rolls onto his side to look at Sam. “You’re taking this all really well.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at him, “Which part? The fact that my best friend’s in love with me, or the fact where I think he might be in love with my brother too.”

He’s too tired to even try to deny it. He just blinks at Sam, who’s straight lips curve into a hint of a smile.

“I know you weren’t going to tell me, but it wasn’t very hard to figure out.”

Cas sighs, “I was going to tell you. Eventually.”

“It’s okay, I get why you didn’t.”

“I don’t even know what I’m feeling, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Sam reaches out, his fingers brushing against Cas’ arm. “Of course it matters. He might not show it all the time, and it might not seem like it now, but Dean cares about you a lot.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know how I didn’t put it together before. The way he looks at you? The way he treated you at Ruby’s party. Why he was always coming to the house when he knew you’d be there, even though he has his own place. How he paid even more attention when I spoke about you. The _ridiculous_ third degree he gave me after we kissed at Ruby’s.” Sam tells him, and Castiel’s heart skips a beat, “It was always there, I just never saw it. But I know my brother, and I know he has to have a reason for what he did. I’m not saying it’s a good one, because this is Dean we’re talking about, but I know he has to have one.”

Castiel takes in a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I told you I loved you today, and now we’re talking about Dean. I can't believe you're not more freaked out.”

“I think I’m handling this so well because, deep down, I might have known. I mean, not for sure, but the thought occurred to me before in passing. That you might be interested. I just thought if you felt that way you would have told me.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t.”

“It’s okay. I know it was hard for you to tell me, but I’m glad you did.” Sam says, “I just hate that I might have contributed to how bad you’re feeling right now.”

“No, Sam, please don’t feel like that. I promise we’re fine. I know you can’t help how you feel, and I would never hold that against you.” Cas says, “The reason I feel this way has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with your brother.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I would never hold your feelings against you either. I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way, but this doesn’t have to change anything between us unless you want it to. I will always be your best friend, and you’ll always be mine. But if you want time, I’ll give it to you. But just know, for me, this won’t change anything.”

It’s such a stark contradiction to the conversation he had with Dean. There’s no yelling, no hurtful words, only warm reception and promises he needs to hear.

“I don’t need space, not yet at least. I just have to get over this whole Dean thing and then I can focus on getting over you.”

Sam smiles at him, although it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s not your fault, I promise.” Castiel tells him, “You can’t help that you’re perfect.”

Sam laughs, and it’s that full bodied laugh he loves so much, and nudges Castiel’s shoulder with his hand. “Shut up before you embarrass me.”

Castiel smiles and for the first time since he’s spoken to Dean, he feels better.

“I think you should talk to him again.”

“I really don’t want to.” Cas replies, hugging his pillow tighter.

“Don’t you want actual answers? Don’t you want to know the fucked up reason he actually kept this from you?”

Castiel looks at his friend and yawns loudly, “Maybe eventually, but right now I just want to sleep.”

“Then you should sleep. Do you want me to leave? Or I can stay with you.”

“You wouldn’t mind staying?”

Sam smiles again, “Of course I wouldn’t.”

“Then I’d really like it if you stayed. I don’t want to be alone.”

“Then it’s decided.” Sam says, pulling the cord on his lamp and casting the room into darkness, “We’ll call it an early night.”

He pulls the comforter down so he and Sam can both climb inside, before pulling it up to his neck. The darkness is a soothing comfort and Castiel reveals in it. Sam’s presence behind him is comforting, not touching, but the heat he gives off reminds Castiel that he’s still here, and he isn’t leaving.

“I love you.” Sam says into the darkness.

It’s not meant the way Cas wants it to be meant, but it’s enough.

“I love you too.”

Castiel closes his eyes, the smell of Dean’s cologne still lingering on his sheets, and hugs his pillow tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shameless plug here: I'm writing a new Desitel fic called, ["in good company"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19209907/chapters/45670447) which you should definitly checkout! In case you're interested, the blurb is right below! It's chalk full of themes simmilar to the ones in this fic. (Pining, Sam & Cas being friends, Dean being, well, Dean). 
> 
> Sam, desperate to get his family off his back, asks his best friend Castiel to pretend to date him during Spring Break when he heads home. Cas, reluctant to return home to his own family and happy to help his friend, agrees. He loves Sam’s family - well, with the exception of his elder brother Dean.


	12. Saturday, May 4th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, that's a wrap!
> 
> flashbacks are in italics. also please read the end note!

He forgets about it.

Well, okay, he doesn’t actually forget about it. He’s always been good at compartmentalizing, and in this case, he puts his skills to good use. Cas shoves all thoughts involving the Winchesters to the back of his mind, and promises himself that he’ll examine it in it’s entirety at a later date, but for the meantime, Dean is off limits.

So he doesn’t forget about it, but he moves on the best he can.

To start, he deletes Dean’s number and their messages. It’s hard to press the delete button, but the second he gathers the courage, he immediately feels better. Castiel decides that he’ll pretend that they were never friends, that they never got close and that Dean doesn’t know all the intimate places of his heart.

It’s really just his luck that Dean starts showing up everywhere.

Whereas at once, Dean was only occasionally around, he is now around literally all the time.

Every time Castiel goes to the Winchester’s house, Dean is there. He never says anything to Castiel, just looks at him with that same forlorn and adrift expression. In turn, Castiel never says anything to him either, just walks by him and keeps his chin high.

No one says anything about it until about two weeks later, when Mrs. Winchester finally comments on it.

Cas’ is in the kitchen, pulling an apple pie out of the oven and sitting it on the cabinet. Sam’s upstairs finishing his chemistry when she walks in. It’s around nine on a Friday, and she’s already dressed down and in a robe. She’s barefaced and swirls a glass of white wine in her fingertips.

“Castiel,” Mary says as she takes a seat at the counter.

He looks up from where he had been sprinkling sugar on the top of the dough and smiles at her. “Mary.”

“Your pie looks delicious.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?”

He tucks the sugar back into the countertop and nods at her. She looks hesitant, as if not knowing whether or not she can ask him.

Eventually, she settles on, “Is everything alright? It seems like things are tense between you and my boys right now.”

“Sam and I are fine, Mrs. Winchester.”

She gives him a knowing look. “You know that wasn’t who I was referring to.”

He watches the wine in her glass sparkle in the low lighting and shrugs, “Everything’s fine.”

“I just ask because you’ve been avoiding Dean like the plague, and every time you don’t speak to him he acts like you’ve just drowned his puppy. If something’s going on with my boy, I’d like to know.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with Dean. He might be able to answer that question better than I can.”

“Castiel,” Mary says, and her voice is somehow both a warning and a plea.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Winchester. I honestly don’t know what he’s thinking, and trust me, I wish I did. But I don’t.”

She gives him a sad look as she finishes the rest of her glass but nods understandingly. “Well, get some sleep.”

“I will.”

She stands to leave, but stops before she reaches the door, “I know we don’t say it enough, but John and I are really lucky you came around and that you’re friends with Sam..”

He gives her a smile. Growing up without a mother was hard, but Mary has been the perfect person to remind him that sometimes you do get to pick your family. “I’m really lucky to have meet your family. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me..”

“You being here is thanks enough.” She smiles again, “Goodnight,” and then she’s gone, leaving Castiel alone in the dark with only his thoughts for company.

Everything comes to a head that day.

He spends the entire day in bed, watching bad reality television and eating Ben and Jerry’s out of the container. It’s pathetic, and he feels like a fifteen year old girl who’s boyfriend ditched her at the formal, but it’s cathartic. His family’s gone, leaving him alone and enjoying the misery. He almost thinks of inviting Sam over, because misery does love company, but decides against it. He’ll lay in misery alone.

It’s around ten that night when Meg sneaks through his window. He’s half asleep, eyes blurring as he watches the television. That is, until, he hears the loud thump, followed by a, “Shit.”

It scares the hell out of him for a second, until he sees her face pop up beside the beg, sandy hair falling in curls around her head.

“You could have used the door,” Castiel says around a yawn, and she smacks the side of his thigh.

“Not as fun,” Meg says as she stands from the floor. “Get dressed, whore.”

“Why would I change at night? I’m ready for bed.”

“Exactly,” She murmurs, already going through his closet, the hangers smacking against each other as she browses, “And it’s not time for bed. I have fun plans.”

He finally gets a good look at her outfit, and it shouldn’t surprise him. She’s dressed like she’s going to a club, in a tight miniskirt and crop top combo that leaves nothing to the imagination. Her ass is almost completely hanging out of the skirt, and he can see the bottom of her breasts through the underneath of her shirt.

“Where are you going?”

“Well, _we_ are going to a party.”

“Meg,” He pleads with her. “I do not want to go to a party right now. I feel like shit and I’d like to feel like shit in my own bed.”

“Come on, babe. Going to a party is the perfect cure. You can feel like shit and get drunk at the same time. Hell, you can even hook up with someone.”

“I don’t want to hookup with anyone.” Besides Dean, he doesn’t add.

“Well I do, and I’m not going by myself. And as you’re friend, I’m not going to let you lie in your filth,” She motions to the Cheeto crumbs that sit along his chest.

He already knows there’s no way to convince Meg to leave him be, so he reluctantly - like a petulant child - drags himself out of his bed and slowly climbs into the outfit she picked out for him. It’s nothing he’d ever wear by his own choice. The jeans are too tight, he can see the print of his dick through the front, and the shirt falls too short on his torso.

She eyes him appreciatively, “Good enough to eat.” He watches her check her phone, shielding the screen away from Cas’ eyes, “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

He lets her drag him out the door, and prays that being drunk will make the night go just a little faster.

The party turns out to be a college party thrown by none other than Ruby. When Meg starts down her driveway, Castiel immediately tenses up.

“Relax man, already talked to Sam. He’s keeping Dean in tonight, so you can stop shitting your pants.”

He doesn’t acknowledge what she says, but deflates a fraction in his seat.

By the time they make it inside, Meg’s grip on his arm is starting to hurt. She directs him to the kitchen, where he grabs a red solo cup full of whatever jungle juice concoction Ruby’s mixed up this time.

He noses around for a while by himself, draining his glass and mingling with the few people he remembers from the last party.

It’s a little after 1 AM when Ruby spots him from across the house, and lets out a loud cheer as she throws her hands up in the air. She rushes towards him, teetering in her too tall heels, and pulls him into a tight hug. She holds him against her body, smelling like vodka and expensive perfume, before pulling away enough to smile at him.

“Cas, baby, you came. Here I was thinking we scared you off last time.”

“Never,” He says, giving her a smile, “You really know how to throw a party.”

“Why thank you, baby cakes.” Ruby says as she loops their arms together, “Come on, we’ve got drinks to drink and people to entertain.”

He feels welcomed by her, and as she introduces him to her friends, he starts to feel more at ease. She’s very affectionate, hanging on his arm as she laughs with her friends. He gets more than one kisses on the cheek, and he begins to embrace the affection as the alcohol from earlier sets into his limbs.

Castiel ends up back in the kitchen sometime later, and he’s actually starting to have a good time. There’s an easy smile on his face as he turns to thank Meg, who’s doing shots beside him, when his eyes catch on the front door.

His glass squishes in his hand, jungle juice shooting up and onto the floor.

There, looking miserable and worse for wear, is Dean Winchester.

Castiel smacks his hand across Meg’s shoulder, who winces, as he spits out, “What the hell, Meg?”

She gives him an innocent look that he knows is a facade. She fucking planned this. Meg gives him a shrug and takes another shot.

He ducks out of the kitchen before Dean can see him, and starts towards the back hallway, intent on finding the pool house and calling Gabriel to come pick him up. Because out of all the people he doesn’t want to see right now, Dean Winchester takes the cake.

He finds the hallway with ease and takes a moment to collect himself. It’s as he’s standing there, that the hallway door opens behind him. Castiel knows who it is before he even looks up.

He goes to reach for the door opposite of Dean when the older man says, “Cas, wait.”

He turns back, expectantly, but Dean only looks at him. When it becomes clear he has nothing to add, he turns back to the door.

“Castiel please,”

He spins back to face Dean, and throws his hands up in defeat, “God, please stop. Please stop pleading with me and then saying nothing. If you have something to say, just say it. Stop wasting my time with this bullshit; I’m sick and tired of waiting for you to say something that will change things. So either spit it out or stop talking.”

He turns again, content to leave it at that. His footsteps sound loud in the hallway, the party being mostly boxed in my the rest of the house. There’s the faint swell of base heavy music, but he is mostly alone. Cas is reaching for the doorknob, fingers brushing the metal when he hears Dean speak from behind him.

“I love you.”

The words make him stop short. His hand is resting on the cool metal of the door handle, and he wants to bolt, but it makes him freeze there. He can’t speak, can’t turn around, can’t ask what the fuck Dean means by that.

Like he can read Castiel’s mind, the older man continues, “I’m in love with you.”

The feeling in his extremities slowly returns and he turns back to face Dean. He looks broken, standing there with his arms out, pleading and desperate, looking anywhere but at Castiel.

“What?” Cas says, his voice coming out rough and his throat dry.

Dean finally looks up at him, and gives him the smallest of smiles, “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but I am.”

“Don’t,” Castiel says, voice hard even as tears threaten to pool in his eyes, “Don’t you fucking dare lie to me about this.”

He thinks there’s only one explanation. Dean must have somehow found out about Cas’ traitorous feelings and decided to use them in one last play. But he’s not going to have it, he won’t stand for this kind of cruelty.

“I’m not lying Cas, hell, I wish I was.” Dean says, “But I’m not.”

“You can’t-”

“I do, and I have for a long time.”

He knows he’s just playing right into Dean’s hand, but there’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind that asks, “What if?”

What if he’s not lying? What if he’s telling the truth?

“How long?”

“You remember your seventeenth birthday party?”

He nods, unable to say anything else. It was almost two years ago when Mary had bought enough booze to drown a town and let them have a fire in the Winchester’s back yard.

“That’s when I first found out. You got drunk off your ass and curled up on Sam’s lap. I was looking at you, sitting there with him, and I was jealous. I wished that it was me your were with.”

He thinks about Dean’s sad face while looking at that picture in his room.

_Castiel looked away from Dean’s stoic face to the picture of Sam and him from too long ago. It was the night of his seventeenth birthday party. They were sharing a lawn chair, Castiel mostly sprawled across Sam’s lap, with Sam’s arms wrapped around his waist. There were a couple empty beer bottles littering the ground next to them, and Castiel’s mouth was wrapped around Sam’s beer bottle, while Sam looked at him smiling._

“But that’s not all of it. You were tired and Sam was too drunk to get you upstairs so Mom asked me to take you. The whole time you were clinging to me like you’d fall off the Earth if you let go. And you were so perfect, in that moment, and it was a glimpse of what I could have, and when I helped you into Sam’s bed, you looked up at me and dragged your hand across my cheek and told me I was beautiful.”

He flushes at Dean’s words, not remembering a single second of that night.

“But you were drunk, so I tucked you in and left, and pretended like you never said a thing.”

“Two years?”

Dean gives him a helpless shrug, “Give me some credit, man, I’m a Winchester. Denial is in my blood. I pushed all that shit away, got with Bella and I thought I was happy. Thought I was over it.” He says, “And then I saw you about two weeks before we kissed. You were at the diner with Sam, and that jealousy was back full force, and I knew I wasn’t over it and I wasn’t going to get over it.”

“You dumped her.”

Dean nods in agreement, “She was crazy and a bitch, but she didn’t deserve me stringing her along when I knew I didn’t love her. When I couldn’t love her.”

Two years. Dean’s loved him for two years.

“And then you asked me to kiss you and everything was even harder than before, and I know I hurt you,” Dean says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but you never would have realized unless it was Sam. If I was the one who told you, there’d always be that question in the back of your mind, “What if you would have told him?”, you never would have gotten over it, so it had to come from Sam.”

“So you what, just decided to manipulate me into getting over Sam so I could fall in love with you?”

“No, Cas, it wasn’t like that. It was never like that. I knew that getting over Sam didn’t mean anything; l knew there was always a chance you wouldn’t feel the same way, and I accept that. I knew that from the start. But whether you’ll have me or not, I’m not sorry that you know how he feels. And I’m not sorry that you can move on, even if it’s with someone that’s not me.”

“Dean, I don’t-”

“But don’t lie to me. Don’t say you don’t feel the same way. I know what you felt, what you feel. It’s the reason kissing Sam didn’t feel the same as kissing me. It’s because you like me too.”

“But you lied to me, and I can’t just forget that.”

Dean looks down to his feet for a moment, before he takes a step forward. Green eyes meet his own and Dean says, “Then let’s compromise.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kiss me one last time, just one kiss, and if you don’t feel anything then I’m gone. But if you do, then we talk. No expectations, no promises on your part, just talking.”

“You promise you’ll stop? No more showing up to your parents house when you know I’ll be there?”

Dean looks him in the eyes, his face genuine and warm, and says, “I promise.”

He figures it’s as good a test as any. If he kisses Dean and still feels the spark, then he knows that his feelings for Dean wasn’t just run off from Sam. And if he feels nothing, then he can close the book on this chapter of his life. There’s really no downside.

“Okay then.”

He walks forward, erasing the distance between them, until he stands right in front of Dean. The older man’s eyes are soft, with a hint of sadness dampening the crystal green color. The hallway is dark, but there’s a hint of light streaming in from beneath the doors and through the windows that gives him a clear enough view.

Slowly, like something out of a movie, Dean reaches up. His hand brushes softly against Castiel’s cheek, and he has that same look in his eye. That look that Castiel saw the night at the Winchester’s house when he hugged Dean in the hallway.

_He looked longing, like he was longing for some other unrequited love, and like Castiel was the representation of all he wanted._

This time he takes it personal, because he knows it is- it always has been. Even back then, Dean was dealing with an unrequited love, and that love was for Castiel.

It strikes him that this is the first time since they’ve become closer that they’ll share a kiss.

He leans forward just a fraction, bringing his chest against Dean’s. He can feel the large intakes of breath the older man takes, and it’s nice to know he isn’t alone in this, that he affects Dean just as much as Dean affects him. Like that dance in his living room, Castiel brings his arm up to rest upon Dean’s chest, and he can feel the erratic thump of his heart there.

Castiel straightens his back, only slightly, and his nose brushes against the underside of Dean’s chin. Dean angles his head to the side, looking down at Castiel who’s already looking back up at him. Once again, with Dean’s eyes on him, it feels like he’s the only person in the world.

He’s not sure who leans in first, but one second he’s staring at the gleam of light in Dean’s eyes, and the next moment, his eyes close and Dean’s lips brush against his own.

He’s not surprised by the immediate response he feels grow through his chest. Like every other kiss they’ve shared, his nerves are in immediate overdrive. There are no fireworks, but the butterflies in his stomach awaken from their cacoons and swarm through his bloodstream, up into his chest and out to his fingertips with each pump of his heart.

At first, it’s just a brush of their lips, but then Castiel pushes back into the kiss. Dean’s cradling Cas’ head in his hands like a precious object, and he can’t deny himself this. Not when Dean’s this close, and this willing, and this in love with him too.

He licks into Dean’s mouth, making the kiss deeper and more intimate. His lips crash against Dean’s almost violently, and he can’t control the way his fingers tighten in the older man’s shirt. Dean’s tongue runs against his own, soft in a way he wasn’t expecting and almost vulnerable.

He kisses back with enthusiasm, letting Dean control the kiss. It’s soft for a second, before Dean must realize this might be his last chance, because he angles Castiel’s head back a fraction of an inch and then returns his tongue in what Castiel can only refer to as literally fucking his mouth with it. It slows down as fast as it sped up, and then it’s just the soft brush of Dean’s lips and the languid curling of his tongue against Cas’.

Dean eventually breaks the kiss, leaving his forehead resting against Castiel’s own.

He wishes he could stay here for a lifetime, breathing the same air as Dean, staring up into his eyes, and feeling the warmth that cascades through his veins every time Dean runs his fingers across Castiel’s skin. And then he remembers, he can.

“So?” Dean whispers, like saying anything will snap Castiel out of the haze he’s fallen into.

After a kiss like that, Dean shouldn’t have any question about his answer. Castiel thinks it proves how deep his self esteem issues run, that he thinks after Castiel kissed him like that he would still walk away.

And he should. Being with Dean wouldn’t be easy. Castiel knows that. Dean broke his trust. He knows they’ll fight, and that Dean will keep his thoughts and concerns to himself and that Castiel will have to pry every admission out of him.

But he thinks it would be worth it.

"This is a terrible idea." He replies, tone soft. 

"It probably is, but you're young and I'm restless, and we have all the time in the world to make terrible decisions."

Castiel brushes the palm of his hand against Dean’s cheek, and watches as the older man leans into it.

Cas is still not entirely convinced this isn’t a joke. He’s not entirely sure he can trust Dean. He’s not even sure if they can straighten things out at this point. But Dean’s looking at him like he’s never wanted anything more, and Castiel feels the butterflies in his stomach flutter their wings once more.

It’s not perfect, but it’s progress.

“Take me home, Dean.” He says, watching the way Dean’s eyes grow softer, “We should talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry if you're not satisfied with the ending! I've decided to make this a series, which will include an epilogue, the original story, deleted scenes, and chapters from different POV! So make sure you subscribe to, "ain't it funny how the night moves"
> 
> Thank you all so much for sticking with me on this whirlwind! I love you all so much.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: lasciviouspeach


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